The Moment
by ShinyRedPenny
Summary: Sansa allows her walls to slip a little after Tyrion defends her in the throne room
1. Chapter 1

"You're here to answer for your brother's latest treasons!" Joffrey looked down his crossbow at the her as she knelt at the foot of the throne.

She should have known as soon as she had walked into the throne room that something was amiss. One of Joffrey's knights had come to fetch her, coldly telling her she was needed. When she had been escorted into the room, she had been surprised that it was so empty. Just a handful of noblemen and women had been scattered throughout the large hall and Joffrey had sat alone on the throne-his precious dog his ever shadow at his side. There had been no Tyrion or Cersei. No one that could temper the king's fury. No one that could help her.

She forced herself to stay calm as she pleaded for mercy.

"Your Grace" she cried, "Whatever my traitor brother has done, I had no part. You know that! I beg you, PLEASE-"

He was uninterested in her begging though as he cut her off. "Sir Lancel, tell her of this outrage." His tone seemed almost bored as the crossbow drooped slightly. Sansa released a breath as the arrow's projection strayed from her chest. Lancel Lannister's voice snapped her back to attention though as it rang out behind her.

"Using some vile sorcery, your brother fell on Stafford Lannister with an army of wolves," Sansa turned her face to survey the false knight and the blood drained from her face at his words. "Thousands of good men were butchered. After the slaughter, the northmen feasted on the flesh of the slain." Had the situation been any less precarious for her, Sansa would have laughed at the court's reactions to such nonsense. The ladies all gasped and covered their mouths with their hands and the men grumbled in outcry. Lancel looked like a preening peacock, proud to throw Sansa to the lions. His claims were obviously exaggerated, but no one seemed willing to say so.

She let her head drop in despair as she turned back to the king. Through her tears, she saw that the crossbow was back in place, pointed toward her heart. His words confirmed her fate.

"Killing you would send a message..." Unbidden, fresh tears poured from her eyes and her throat seized. But then, as if by miracle, the crossbow dropped again.

Joffrey sighed irritably "But my mother INSISTS on keeping you alive." Although Joffrey looked like his favorite toy was taken from him, Sansa couldn't help the hope that leapt in her heart at his words.

Thank the Gods for Cersei Lannister.

"Stand." Sansa made sure to rise gracefully, despite her tear covered face. What a mess she had been, in front of all these courtiers- no less. She smoothed her skirts and looked back up to her betrothed, hoping for forgiveness.

Joffrey was quick to take that hope away. "So...We'll have to send your brother a message some other way. Meryn!" Sansa's eyes widened in fear as her gaze darted to the armoured man on the side of the throne. His armour clanked noisily as he stomped towards her menacingly, ringing in her ears over the overwhelming pounding of her heart. She looked at the knight pleadingly, but was met with only a vicious smirk.

He had just reached her when Joffrey called out again. "Leave her face!" Whatever hope was left abandoned her. "I like her pretty."

Sir Meryn grabbed her shoulder, pulling her attention away from the boy she had been desperately in love with only months before. Her tear-filled eyes begged him for mercy, but a heartbeat later, his mailed fist had slammed into her stomach, knocking the wind from her. She staggered backward slightly, doubled over as pain radiated through her. In the back of her mind, she registered the squeal of court ladies moving out of her way. She knew none of them would stand up for her against this cruelty.

The noise of a sword being unsheathed put ice in her veins and as Meryn raised the steel, she prayed that her death would be swift. Instead, a biting snap of the broadside of the sword on the back of her thighs had her pitched forward onto her knees. She felt a small trickle of blood soak into her pale blue gown and she knew she would never be able to wear it again.

She chanced a look at Joffrey and saw a sadistic smile painted over his features. He rose and took a few steps toward her, sneering in her face. "Sir Meryn, My Lady is overdressed. Unburden her."

As Meryn circled her again, Sansa's head spun at Joffrey's words. He wouldn't...

But her thoughts were cut short by Sir Meryn's brutish hands sliding over the skin of her back and roughly gripping the blue silk. She allowed her head to fall back and she looked at the ceiling, tears running down her cheeks as she prayed to whatever gods would listen to help her. The light summery fabric gave way immediately and she felt cold wind on her exposed back. She clutched her arms to her chest, desperate to save any of her remaining dignity.

By now, everyone in the throne room had fallen utterly silent. She searched their faces for signs of sympathy and although some looked on fearfully, no one moved to stop the abuse. Her eyes met with Sandor Clegane and saw him look away angrily, leaving her to her misery.

"If we want Robb Stark to hear us, we're going to have to SPEAK LOUDER" Joffrey jeered, clearly loving this new game. He was almost prancing around on the top of the throne, giddy with his power. Sansa knew this would not stop until she was unmoving, bleeding out onto the floor. Her fears were confirmed when Meryn unsheathed and raised his sword again. She scrambled backwards now, forgetting all propriety, desperate to escape the sharp steel descending upon her. Just as the knight started to move his weapon closer, a voice rang out across the hall.

"What is the meaning of this!" The crowd parted and Sansa was able to glimpse her savior.

Tyrion Lannister may have been a misshapen dwarf but in that moment he stood heads above them all as he moved forward, glaring at his nephew, who looked terrified to be caught. As Tyrion got closer his murderous glare switched to Sir Meryn.

"What kind of knight beats a helpless girl" he ground out through clenched teeth before his eyes moved to her, wide and fearful, obviously trying to gauge how much damage had been done.

"The kind who serves his king, imp!" Meryn spat back.

"Careful now," drawled Tyrion's sellsword almost casually, circling around while eyeing Meryn. "Wouldn't want to get blood all over that pretty white cloak."

"Someone get the girl something to cover herself with" Tyrion declared as he passed her and moved towards the steps of the throne. Immediately Sandor moved towards her, ripping off his white cloak and draping it over her shoulders. The weight of it dropping onto her twinged the forming bruises, but Sansa reached her fingers to pull it around her tighter, savoring the shelter it gave. She listened with half an ear as Tyrion berated the king as no one else dared to. As Meryn was shot down for coming to Joffrey's rescue from the tounge lashing he was receiving, Sansa almost had to hide a smile.

Tyrion stepped back down to the main floor and Sansa's focus recentered on him. She eyed him warily as he came closer to her so slowly it was almost painful. He circled around her to her right, leaving a large space to give her comfort. He approached her as one would a wounded animal, though Sansa had to admit that she felt like a kicked pup at the moment. His hand gently rose and then turned upright to her. She looked at it, frozen, before her eyes shot to his. For a moment, she considered refusing his assistance. No matter what had just transpired, he was just another Lannister. Cersei herself would have probably stopped this beating, but she doubted the golden queen wouldn't love to see her on the floor.

She breathed heavily while she quickly weighed her options. In the end, she knew she had no choice. She doubted she would even be able to rise alone with the wounds on the back of her legs. She shakily reached out to his outstretched hand, feeling his warm fingers envelope hers. It was as if he passed along his energy with that touch as she felt emboldened. She rose gracefully, despite her injuries and went so far as to ignore Joffrey's movement. He had risen from his seat and stared at her, daring her to walk away from him. She met his eyes, her fingers still in Tyrion's hand, still under his protection, and purposefully turned away. She knew that she might pay for that disrespect later, but for the moment, she was safe.

She listened as Tyrion apologized to her on Joffrey's behalf and she felt her resolve sliding back into place. She had lost control earlier, and she couldn't afford to show any weakness here. However, as she turned to look at Tyrion, all she saw in his face was sincerity.

He took her hand once again. "Tell me the truth. Do you want an end to this engagement?"

Sansa could have laughed in his face, but instead just tilted her chin up and spoke her courtesies. "I am loyal to King Joffrey, my one true love." As she turned to run back to her rooms and draw a healing bath, his grip on her hand stopped her. She turned back, surprised, and met his gaze again. The energy that had passed between them before swam through her senses again as she allowed her shoulders to relax. He gazed up at her with such sympathy and concern that Sansa felt her walls crumbling. A single tear slid down her cheek and she barely whispered "I can't."

Tyrion seem moved by her plight as he just tightly nodded his head before releasing her hand.

...

 **A/N: Thinking about turning this into a longer story if the inspiration hits me, but for now it's just a one shot. Hope you all enjoy!**


	2. Chapter 2

Later that night, after spending a few hours in scalding hot water she had her tender legs wrapped by the maester. Pycelle had hardly made eye contact with her as he worked, though her handmaidens had made clucking sounds of disapproval as they cleaned her wounds. He had spoken with one, handing her some ointment to administer ever four hours before nodding towards Sansa and leaving.

Sansa allowed her maids to redress her and dismissed them. The wounds stung, but she was determined to visit the gods wood tonight. It was the only time that she had to herself, undisturbed by any handmaiden spy or threat of the kingsguard. And she needed some time to herself tonight. It had been such a stressful day. Her thoughts drifted to the moment Tyrion had held out his hand to her earlier. Before he had arrived she had been a beaten down pup, but with one moment of shared energy between them she had found the wolf in her that had allowed her to leave with dignity.

She had only had a few interactions with the littlest Lannister, but as she drew on her cloak she thought about them. He had made quite an impression with the north men while the royal party had visited Winterfell and Sansa vaguely recalled the boisterous voices from his table during the welcoming feast. His bawdy sense of humour and uninhibited laughter had fit right in amoung the northern lords. Though Sansa had been quite distracted by her handsome prince and the beautiful queen, she also remembered that Tyrion had followed her brother, Jon, to the wall as well. Most southerners were uninterested in the harsh beauty of the wall, but Tyrion had been intrigued.

And then there was the moment when he had returned during Joffrey's nameday tournament. He had looked at her kindly and given her condolences for losing her father. She had been ready to thank him for his kindness when Joffrey had interrupted and reminded her of where she was. Still, it had seemed as if Tyrion had seen through her practiced words.

Resolving to learn more about Lord Tyrion, she quietly pushed her door open before squeaking in fright.

There on the other side of the door was a massive person, all rippling muscle and furs and armour. Her eyes widened in terror as the creature turned to her and she fell back into her rooms, trying to slam the door. The creature reached out however and stopped the door with a strong arm before speaking.

"Can I help you?" the voice was roughly feminine and Sansa was shocked to see it was a woman.

"Wh-who are you?" she whispered, still fearful despite no impending attack.

"Name's Chella. Daughter of Chyek, of the Black ears!" The gruff woman said proudly, slamming a large fist to her own chest in introduction. "The half man said you needed a warrior at your door."

Sansa blinked in confusion. "You mean Lord Tyrion?" She clarified. She remembered seeing some rough looking people in Tyrions retinue when he had returned to court. Something about the hill tribes of the Vale? The woman shrugged.

"That's him. Says I'm to turn away any who try enter, but I'm not to stop you if you want to leave, little Lady. Though I'd bet he'd expect me to follow. I'll keep my distance though, believe me. You won't even know I'm there." The woman gave what Sansa assumed was a smile, though with her blackened teeth, she couldn't be sure.

"That...that will hardly be necessary, Lady Chella. I would love your company." A woman's armour was her courtesies and Sansa would not drop them in this unfamiliar territory. She was not expecting the woman to burst into throaty laughter.

"I'm no lady, little one. Just 'Chella' works for me. You lead the way."

Sansa moved to pass the woman and gestured for her to walk beside her.

"That is a lovely necklace, L- Chella." Sansa struggled to make small talk with the woman who clearly had nothing in common with her. In the dark, all Sansa could really make out was the bulky necklace that seemed to contrast greatly from the rest of the woman's outfit.

The woman let out a loud guffaw, catching her off guard though. Sansa was almost offended by the woman's laugh as it was almost mocking, but held off and looked at her quizzically.

"Did I say something funny, My Lady?" Sansa raised an eyebrow at her interesting companion.

"Most of you highborns wouldn't appreciate the...style that we tribesmen live by" Chella chuckled. "Made this one here all by myself, its taken me a few years to...collect the materials."

Chella lifted the cord into the light and Sansa felt her mouth go dry. The large rough beads that she had thought were handcrafted medallions were actually dried human ears. Sansa's mouth fell open in shock and she visibly recoiled, causing Chella to laugh again.

Although the severed ears disgusted her, Sansa was more intrigued by the woman in front of her. She was kind enough-respectful enough to Sansa although she doubted there was any loyalty there. She was obviously Tyrion's friend, so she couldn't be completely terrible. She seemed to genuinely care about Sansa's safety as well. During their walk through the halls of the Red Keep whenever a knight or guard passed them, Chella had gently pushed Sansa behind her. It wasn't often that anyone seemed to care about her well-being and although it was the barest trace of caring, Sansa was happy for it.

But what intrigued her the most was the absolute strength of the woman. Sansa was always the delicate, beautiful flower-only made to be pleasing to the eye. Yes she was excelled at needlework, but what use was that really? People only needed so many embroidered pillows or handkerchiefs. Chella had a use. She could protect herself and others and Sansa couldn't help but admire her for it.

She knew she had to using snap judgments of people. Coming to conclusions of others before she really got to know them. It had gotten her in trouble so many times before. She had been sure that Joffrey was a golden prince who would be her savior just because of how he looked. Assumed that the queen was perfect and kind just because she was beautiful. She needed to stop. Just like her small moment with Tyrion earlier. He was a Lannister and she was inclined to hate him just for that. But something had made her hesitate. The same thing that prompted her to bite the bile that was rising at Chella's attire back and ask her how many she had collected. The woman looked at her approvingly, before launching into stories of her battles and duels.

Sansa found herself growing more and more interested the closer they got to the godswood.


	3. Chapter 3

Chella escorted her to the edge of the godswood, but then allowed her to enter alone. Sansa was grateful as these times alone were some of the only she was allowed in the Red Keep. She also felt infinitely safer with the fierce woman guarding the entrance.

She made her way to the heart tree, dodging errant branches and keeping to the rough dirt path. She knew the way to the center almost by heart now and despite the darkness was able to make it without scratching herself on the trees. As she knelt before the tree she felt a sharp pain from her thighs and allowed a hand to gently run over the bandages then up to her abdomen. She hissed in pain as she pressed on the skin and knew that there would be massive bruises in the morning. Tears welled in her eyes as she imagined the scars that would form and marr her perfect skin. She went to brush her tears away, but before she knew it she was sobbing. Waves and waves of helplessness and fear crashed over her. It was as if the flood gates had opened and all of the grief she had kept hidden away for weeks came bubbling to the surface.

She cried for the loss of her father who she had betrayed. If she had never run to the queen and begged her to stop him from taking her away then he might still be alive. She had been so caught up in the facade that Joffrey had created, so determined to be queen that she had signed her father's death warrant. She remembered one of the last conversations that she had had with him. How he had gone through the trouble of seeking out the royal toy maker and having a doll commissioned for her. He had brought it to her with an apology in his eyes. She had blamed him for Lady's death and he was trying so hard to make it up to her. And she had responded to his tenderness with scorn. Thinking about how ungrateful and childish she had been had Sansa biting her lip hard enough to break the skin. Now the doll she had discarded was one of her most treasured possessions-hiding in one of the chests in her room.

She remembered how she had foolishly gone to court and pleaded mercy for her father. How she had looked up and been dazzled by Joffrey-crowned and on the throne. She had looked up at him and had known that he would not do anything to hurt her. How stupid she had been. The last time she had seen her father, he was being led up the steps of Baelor in chains. He had looked to her sadly and she had sent him an encouraging smile, sure that soon they would be together again. Then it had all gone wrong.

Sansa had been walking a fine line at court ever since. The one time she had allowed herself to speak her mind she had been slapped across the face. So she simpered around, dodging courtiers as often as she could and smiling and using her pretty words whenever it couldn't be avoided.

Today had shown her that no matter what she did, no matter how hard she tried to please Joffrey, that the odds were stacked against her. Joffrey didn't care anymore if she said the right things. He wanted to see her bleed and she was within his power. She was helpless against him and that knowledge made her tears come heavier.

Today it had come to its culmination as she had been beaten, stripped, and she had no doubt it would have only gotten worse if it had not been brought to an end. But it had. And help had come from such an unexpected source. She held up her hand in front of her and pictured the moment he had reached out to her. He had been so cautious and gentle. His fingers had wrapped around hers so warmly and despite his size, he had been strong as he had helped her off the floor.

She didn't want to trust him. She had been beaten down by those she had placed her hopes and dreams with and she was terrified of making another mistake. Terrified of having more taken away from her. But if she didn't allow herself any hope, what was there left for her? Just being lost in this cage with no one? Keeping her head down and hoping that no one would notice her for the rest of her days? She had already seen the attention she was receiving as she grew older and her body developed more. It wouldn't be long before dreams of skating under the radar would disappear. She needed someone who she could trust. Someone who could protect her. And only one person had done so successfully.

She struggled to her feet, knowing she would feel the pain for at least a week, and brushed the leaves from her skirts. She took a moment and calmed her breathing, having exerted herself with her release of all her built up grief, and smoothed her hair. When she was satisfied that any looking at her would not see any sign of distress, she made her way back through the pathways. As she got closer to the entrance, she heard some muffled voices. Fearfully, she quickened her pace, hoping that Chella was still waiting for her.

As she neared the entrance, she realized that Chella's voice was the one she had heard, mixed with one that was unfamiliar. At last, the large woman came into view. Chella was facing away from her, her hands on her hips and her full height drawn. In front of her was a smaller, rotund man in a disheveled, yellowed tunic. The man looked unshaven, unkempt, and Sansa could smell the wine from even her distance. The man seemed to be trying to pass Chella and enter the godswood and Chella was not allowing him.

"I'll tell you one last time, fool, the godswood is occupied. Scamper along back to the keep. You can return later." Chella demanded angrily.

The man muttered incoherently before he caught sight of Sansa, his eyes widening and a lopsided smile coming to his face. "My lady!" he slurred, moving to pass her guardswoman and come towards her. Chella grabbed the scruff of his collar and yanked him back. The man lost his footing and fell to his backside, looking dazed. Sansa fearfully moved so that Chella was standing slightly in front of her, shielding her from the drunk stranger.

As she and the hill tribe woman moved back towards the red keep, Sansa glanced a look back at the man, recognizing him finally. Sir Dontos Hollard, now the king's fool, was struggling to his feet. She felt a stab of pity for leaving him like that, but she knew what dangers a young maiden could face alone with an intoxicated man. She looked up at the determined face of her guardian and made a mental note to thank Lord Tyrion for sending Chella to her.

 **A/N: So clearly I felt more inspired after the first chapter and I think it will develop into a longer story. Ever since the second season, I've loved Sansa (I doubt anyone loved the spoiled brat she was in season 1) and I think she's the most realistic character in the show. And I loved what the show did between her and Tyrion, though I wish she had been more receptive to his kindness. In this fic I'm going to explore what would happen if she had realized that he wasn't awful and looked past his deformities. I hope you guys enjoy! Please review as it definitely helps fuel my inspiration!**


	4. Chapter 4

It had been a week since that awful day in the throne room and so far, Sansa had been left alone for the most part. Sansa was sure that it was because Joffrey, as well as the rest of the court, was too preoccupied with Stannis' fleets impending arrival. Either that or the hulking shadow of Chella following her wherever she went.

Sansa had to admit that she walked with her head held higher than she had since her father was murdered ever since the woman had joined her. It gave her a sense of confidence to know that she was under someone's protection. Plus, the woman was surprisingly a pleasant companion. She had taken to speaking at length with Chella-asking her about her childhood, and her collection of ears, and most notably-her time with Lord Tyrion. Chella certainly respected him and spoke of him fondly. Sansa had been making a point to observe the little Lord and she had to admit-he was impressive. He neutralized Joffrey's most brutal tendencies in court, he bantered with opposing council members, and he showed kindness to all those who were otherwise ignored. She saw goodness in him and although she kept waiting for the veneer to crack, it never did. He wasn't perfect. He was sarcastic and daring and kept...interesting company, but in a court full of snakes, Sansa saw honor in him.

He had been understandably busy, as he seemed to be the only one taking the threat of Stannis seriously, so she had been unable to thank him properly for his efforts to protect her. She didn't think that her message would be properly received in a note, but told herself as soon as she could get him alone, she would express her gratitude.

She was walking towards the gardens when she was halted by the queen's retinue of guards. Cersei swept past in a flurry of crimson silk and golden hair before she hesitated, seeing her. Sansa's prayers went unanswered as the queen sauntered over to her, a simpering smile plastered on her lips.

"Little dove," she purred. "Come, walk with me. _Alone_." She glared towards Chella and Sansa gave her an imperceptible nod, sending her guard away. She knew no physical harm would come to her in the queen's presence-no matter how emotionally cruel she could be. She allowed the queen to wrap her cold fingers around her arm and pull her along.

"How are you, Sansa? I heard of the...difficulties that occurred the other day. Are you feeling well?"

"I am just fine, your grace. I thank you for your concern-"

"Good...good" Cersei interrupted, obviously not caring whether Sansa was in pain or not. "There is to be a ceremony tomorrow to send the Princess off. You will be expected to be there and look the part of the king's betrothed" she looked scathingly at the gown that Sansa was wearing before continuing. "And leave that... _creature_ here" her green eyes narrowed in the direction that Chella had wandered off.

"Of course, your grace" Sansa answered obediently. She could go without Chella's protection for one afternoon. Especially if they were to go out into the city with a full accompaniment of guards.

"There's a good girl" Cersei's smile was slick as she strode away.

...

Sansa spent a few extra moments that next morning instructing her handmaids to style her hair in a way that while still holding the southern intricacies, had a distinctly northern look. Swathed in a new gown of pale pink silk, she headed towards the main courtyard to follow the procession to the docks. She was sad to see Myrcella leaving as she was one of the only pure people at court. And now little Tommen would be all alone.

She arrived to see most of the court already collected and made her way to the princess. Myrcella's eyes were swollen from tears shed and her fingers shook as she took Sansa's hand in hers.

"You've been a true friend, Lady Sansa," Myrcella said, embracing her. "I am sorry that I will miss your wedding."

"Perhaps I will make it to yours, Princess" Sansa gave the blonde a brilliant smile which was returned.

The girls chattered as the procession moved to the bay. Once they had arrived, Myrcella's tears returned. Sansa stepped back to allow her to say farewell to her family. Joffrey made some snide remark about her Dornish betrothed, making her sniffle more. Tommen clutched her tightly, crying himself as he said goodbye to his beloved sister. Cersei pushed the little boy back to his nurses with a disgusted look before embracing her daughter tightly, whispering something in her ear. Whatever the queen had said made Myrcella wipe her tears away and climb into the rowboat.

As she was taken out to the main galley out in the bay, Sansa smiled pityingly at little Tommen, who was struggling to control himself. Just as she was about to reach out to the little boy, Joffrey's snide voice rang out.

"Prince's don't cry" he snorted, looking at his little brother with disdain.

Sansa didn't know what she was thinking. Perhaps it was the confidence that she had reformed over the past few days. Perhaps it was Chella and Tyrion's influence. Whatever it was, Sansa allowed herself to slip.

"I saw you cry."

Joffrey looked at her incredulously and Sandor looked equally baffled behind him.

"Did you say something, My Lady?" Sansa used his question to alter her words.

Seamlessly she answered with a polite smile. "My little brother cried when I left Winterfell."

Joffrey sneered at her "So?"

"It seems he normal thing." She let a hint of annoyance enter her tone.

Joffrey just scoffed. "Was your brother a prince?"

"No"

He looked back at Sandor before back at her, shrugging like she was an idiot. "Not really relevant then, is it"

Sansa bit her lip before dipping into a slight curtsy as he passed her, calling his dog to follow. Sandor glared at her warningly as he passed.

Sansa allowed her eyes to narrow at him slightly, glad that she had been able to hold her tongue. The fact was, Tyrion and Chella could only protect her so much. She had to stay smart. And if that meant being sweet and stupid towards Joffrey, that was something that she must do. As she turned to follow the king and the rest of court back towards the keep she knocked into Lord Tyrion himself. Stepping back away from him, she apologized profusely for her clumsiness.

"Nothing to forgive, Lady Stark" he insisted. "I'm sure I snuck in under your radar. You seem to be growing ever taller. Soon I will seem like an ant under your feet. I'll have to wear bells around my neck to make sure I am not trampled!" he smiled up at her and she giggled slightly before he gestured for her to walk ahead. They walked together in silence for a moment before Sansa spoke.

"I find myself in your debt, My Lord. The Lady Chella has become quite invaluable to me. And I have you to thank for sending her to me."

Tyrion snorted. "Oh yes, the fair Lady Chella" he waved his hand formally at her given title, making Sansa smile again before lowering her voice slightly.

"And for your help that day. I don't know what would have happened had you not arrived when you did." At her words, Tyrion's face grew serious.

"Neither do I, Lady Sansa. I am sorry that you were treated in that way. It is a disgrace for a lady such as yourself to be disrespected in that manner. I will do my best to keep it from happening again, but it would be in your best interest to stay away from the king whenever you can. If he ever calls for you like that again, if you can send a message to me, do so. Chella will not be able to directly refuse an order from the king, but she can get me.

He looked up at her fiercely and she couldn't help the overwhelmed smile that crept onto her face. "Thank you, My Lord."

They walked together through the streets and Sansa could tell something was wrong. The tension in the crowd was palpable and the hair on the back of her neck rose. She could feel panic at the edge of her senses as the cries grew louder and more vulgar. It only grew when Tyrion turned and sent the little prince away quickly.

Suddenly, something flew from the crowd, striking the king in the face. Sansa watched in horror as the king, wiping shit off his face, screamed at the crowd, sending his guards in to find the thrower. As the crowd descended into complete chaos, Sansa felt a warm hand grab hers.


	5. Chapter 5

Screams filled the air as the royal group was ambushed by the peasants. Sansa could hear the kingsguards swords being unsheathed as they drug the king and queen regent from harms way. She felt unfamiliar hands grabbing at her, but Tyrion was pulling her through the crowd. His strength surprised her as he dodged attacks from all sides, never letting go of her. She chanced a look around and saw everyone fighting for their lives. The High Septon was dragged down to the ground and ravished by the crowd. She cried out in terror as she saw his body being literally ripped apart. She heard a woman's scream behind her and turned. Lollys Stokeworth gripped her arm and begged for help. Two men grabbed her arms and pulled her off, tearing the sleeve of Sansa's dress. Sansa reached out for her, but they were already ripping her dress apart. The crowd shifted and Sansa and Tyrion were pulled away for the poor woman who was struggling against her attackers.

Suddenly a stranger wrapped his fingers through Sansa's hair, yanking the braids free and pulling her hand from Tyrion's. She shrieked in fear as the man grasped her dress and tore the silk. This was so much worse than Meryn's beating the other day. She whirled around, feebling trying to fight the man off. Her palm connected with his cheek weakly but he only laughed gruffly. He backhanded her, throwing her to her knees. She waiting for him to grab her again, but instead heard a strange gurgling noise. She glanced back up at the man and saw a sword sticking from his throat. The sword slid back out and the man fell by her side. She looked up and saw Sandor reach a hand out to help her up. Once she was back on her feet, she saw Tyrion by Sandor's side, looking at her bleeding face with concern.

"Thank you, Clegane." he breathed, reaching out for Sansa's hand again.

"Just get her out of here" Sandor roared as he sliced through another attacking commoner.

Sansa held her disheveled head down as Tyrion led her through a passageway to where the rest of court was seeking rescue. She could hear Joffrey's loud, petulant voice screaming.

"Traitors! I want their heads! All of them!"

"Joff, you must send someone to find the Stark girl!" Cersei's desperate voice pleaded with him. She saw the queen grasping her son's tunic. "If she dies we'll never get Jaime back!"

"Let them have her" Joffrey cried angrily before storming away.

Cersei sobbed in fear before turning to the guards. "Find her. Now!"

"That will be unnecessary!" Tyrion cried, leading Sansa towards her. Cersei immediately sighed in relief before snapping her fingers towards one of her handmaidens to treat the cut on Sansa's cheek. As she was being led away, she grasped Tyrion's hand one last time, squeezing it in thanks. He nodded tightly to her and let her go. Just as he did before. She was brought to the other side of the room where a maester began applying a salve, but she could still hear the raised voices of the siblings.

"This is what I'm talking about, Cersei. The girl needs guards. What do you think Robb Stark will do with our brother when he hears his little sister was beaten in court? Or if she had died today? Joffrey is not going to do anything to protect her. We must!"

"He is the king!" she insisted. "And he was punishing her..."

"For what crimes?! She's certainly more innocent than Jaime. You cannot let him throw Jaime's life away. Do something!"

Sansa saw Cersei glare at her little brother. "Fine. I'll speak to Joffrey. You already have that disgusting _thing_ watching over her most of the time. I won't send it away anymore." Sansa sighed in relief. "What were you doing out there with the girl, anyway? You should have been protecting your king!"

"I was walking back with her from the dock" Tyrion snapped. "And Joffrey had the whole kingsguard. She had no one." Cersei nodded before turning away, letting him take inventory of who had made it out. She made her way over to Sansa.

The queen lifted Sansa's face up with her fingers, appraising the damage. "It'll heal," she confirmed. "Make sure to administer a salve every day. Joffrey cannot have a scarred queen." And then she swept out of the room.

...

That night, Sansa sat in front of her mirror, staring at her face. At least Joffrey had seen to it that she stayed pretty. Her busted lip and black eye would take a few weeks to heal and until then, every time Sansa looked in a mirror she would be reminded of that man's face. He had been so full of hatred. Even when Meryn had hit her, it was controlled. The knight was cruel, but he had not been angry with her like this man was. Sansa had never met this man, but he was so furious with her. She sighed and motioned for her new handmaiden to brush her hair.

Shae was new to her service and Sansa wasn't sure how she felt about her. When she had first been appointed, she was one of the worst handmaidens Sansa had ever seen. She clearly did not have much experience and Sansa was annoyed that she had to instruct the woman how to do her job. However, as time went on, Sansa grew to like Shae's manner. She was not the simpering little things like Cersei's spys were, nor was she rude, like most of Joffrey's grooms. She was just honest. And in this vipers nest, honesty was refreshing.

She had thought that she and Shae would become friends, but ever since the day in the throne room, Shae had gotten distant. Sansa wasn't sure what had happened, but she had guessed that Shae had finally realized that being close to Sansa would not bring her any prestige at court.

Whatever it was, Sansa wanted to fix it. She liked Shae and didn't want to lose another friend at court.

"Do you know Lord Tyrion, Shae" she tried striking up conversation. "He's been kind to me lately. If I sent you with a message, could you give it to him? I'd like to invite him to walk with me tomorrow-Ugh!" Her words were cut off as Shae pulled at a tangle quite hard.

"Sorry, My Lady" she muttered enthusiastically. "I believe I can get a message to the Imp."

Sansa moved to her desk and penned out a quick note, sealing it and handing to the handmaiden. "You shouldn't call him that" she said as Shae pocketed the note. Sansa moved to ready herself for bed and missed the heated glare on the handmaiden's face.


	6. Chapter 6

Tyrion slammed his hand on the table before rubbing his temples in frustration. Before him sat a letter from Falyse Stokeworth, begging leave to have a maester inspect her sister. Everyone knew that poor Lollys had been raped in the riot and it would only be his luck that the poor girl was pregnant. The Stokeworth's were a minor family, but to have a woman of noble birth who was a guest at court be in this predicament...it would not be a good image.

The incident in Flea Bottom was a disaster. Tyrion was being flooded with angry letters and he was trying his best to answer them all in a way that assured the security of all guests at court. He also tried to hint that with Stannis' impeding attack, it might be better if noble's stayed in their own holdings. At least until the battle was won. However, just thinking about that made Tyrion's head pound. He had discovered Cersei's store of wildfyre just a few days ago and while he was working on making a plan, it was still shaky. He thought about the horde of blacksmith's he had working on his heavy chain and sent a prayer to the seven that it would give them a chance. They were horrendously outnumbered and it would take a miracle for the Lannisters to keep the city.

His musings were cut short by the door to the Hand's Chamber slamming shut. He looked up from his letters to see Shae sauntering towards him, a seductive smile painted on her face. It had been a while since the last he saw her. He was desperate to keep her safe and just the other night, Cersei had thought she had caught him. Just the idea of Roz's bloodied lip made the hairs on the back of his neck stand. If Shae were to be found, there would be no stopping his raging sister. So he shot his lover a warning look before climbing down from his seat and shuffling towards her.

"Shae, you know you can't just come here. It's not safe..." he started, gently admonishing her.

"Nothing is ever safe in this city, my lion" she purred, taking his hand and pressing it to her lips. "You need to relax. Take a moment away from all these petty problems and come to bed with me." She pulled him towards the bed chamber, but he dug his heels, stopping them.

"I am incredibly busy right now, sweetheart. It's not a good time" he gestured towards the desk covered in papers. "And anyone could walk in."

"You always say that but no one ever does," she tried again, though he could sense a hint of annoyance in her tone. "It has been so long since you have had me, I ache for you" she reached towards the lacings of his trousers and for a moment, he considered giving in. It had been a while since he had taken her. But the thought of Cersei's smirk and his father's threats softened his arousal and had him pushing her hands away.

Shae's face transformed to one of fury. "You never have any time for me anymore. Always busy busy busy- trying to manage people that hate you!" Her accent worsened in her anger. "You don't want me! Don't have time for your whore anymore. You'd rather bed that simple-headed little wolf girl!" She dropped Tyrion's hand and strode away from him furiously, but her words confused him greatly.

"Wolf girl? You mean Lady Sansa?" What on earth had made Shae mention her? Yes, the girl had regularly been on his mind lately, but he had never said so out loud, let alone to Shae. Outside of saving the girl from being beaten or raped, he had had no outward interactions with her.

Shae's face twisted into a sour smile. "Yes, the _Lady_ Sansa" she sneered. "Pretty little Sansa Stark has been mooning over you for a sennight. Would you rather her be visiting you?"

"Shae, she is a child!" Tyrion cried indignantly, though a small part in the back of his mind registered her soft, kind smile and her growing curves. She wouldn't be a child for long. "I'm sure the girl is just grateful towards me. She's had no one to protect her since her father died." He would be lying if the thought of Sansa thinking kindly of him didn't make his heart beat just a little faster. The first time he had seen her since Winterfell had been at the murderous tourney for Joffrey's nameday. The girl had held herself with impressive poise. Tyrion had watched the beauty use her wits to navigate the treacherous situation she had found herself in and he had to acknowledge her will to survive. Perhaps that's why he had rushed with such intensity to the throne room when he heard of Joffrey's punishment. Why he had been unsatisfied with her courtesies when he had pulled her out of the hall. They had shared a moment when she had given him pretty false words and he had silently pressed her for the truth. He had watched her porcelain veneer crack and had seen the scared girl beneath. His heart had gone out to her and he was determined to not see her hurt again. But that didn't mean he wanted her in his bed!

"A child who is growing by the day! A child who has a fancy name, like you! Admit it, you want that girl, just as she wants you. You have no use for me anymore!" Shae swept her arms across his desk, dumping the papers all around the ground. "I will leave, I swear it!" Here she fumbled in her dress before retrieving a letter. "You can have fun fucking that child instead! See if she can please you the way I can! When she ends up a disappointment you will wish you still had me!" she threw the crumpled parchment at him before ripping the door open and leaving, slamming it behind her.

Tyrion had watched in horror, hoping that her raised voice wouldn't attract any unwanted attention, but after she had gone he just sat in wonder. What could possibly have triggered this? His attention was caught by the discarded letter at his feet. He picked it up and made his way over to the disheveled desk. Taking moment, he picked through the papers that Shae had thrown to the ground. He picked up only what was necessary before turning his attention to Shae's letter. Turning it over he saw an intact blob of grey wax and his first name written with a delicate hand. Tyrion broke the seal and scanned the short note quickly. Sansa had asked him politely to walk with her in the gardens. There were no unnecessary flattering words, which was just like the Sansa he was starting to get to know. She was unendingly courteous, but never embellished past what was needed. Her note brought an unbidded smile to his face and he quickly collected the materials to send a response.

His own note was just as short and to the point, sealed with unlabeled red wax. He moved to the door and motioned to his squire, Podrick Payne.

"Deliver this to the Lady Stark, Pod" the young boy nodded and rushed off towards Sansa's rooms. As Tyrion watched him run, he wondered how much of the exchange between he and Shae the boy had heard. It was no matter- the youth was odd, no doubt, but extremely loyal.

As Tyrion poured himself a glass of wine and returned to his troubling letters, he couldn't help him mind wandering to the lady. From what Tyrion could see, Sansa was kind, intelligent, and beyond beautiful. Her striking features made her stand out now, Tyrion could only imagine how she would be as a woman grown. She would be breathtaking. It was truly a shame she was betrothed to the only man in Westeros that wouldn't appreciate her. She was wasted on Joffrey. He would play with her and ruin her. Tyrion sighed. The only thing that he could do would be to protect her when he could. Once they were married, there wasn't much that could save her from the king's cruelty.

Her kind, shy smile flashed through his head as he finished his wine in one gulp. A waste indeed.

 **A/N: Most of this story will be from Sansa's perspective, but I will be throwing in the occasional Tyrion chapter.**


	7. Chapter 7

Sansa turned herself left and right as she surveyed herself in the mirror. The gown she had just commissioned was more mature than her older ones. The deep purple silk was finely embroidered and hugged her waist tighter than the ones she had brought with her from Winterfell. She looked more and more like a true lady these days and now that her blood was upon her, she knew the changes in her body would only continue. Thinking about that morning brought a blush to her cheeks.

Had Sandor not found her frantically trying to slice the stain away, she was sure the sharp knife would have cut her. The hound had not ungently taken the knife from her shaking hands and calmed her. He had talked her into going to the queen, stressing that if Cersei thought she was trying to hide it, things would not go well for her. It had led to one of the most awkward conversations with the queen, where Cersei had spoken to her condescendingly sweet. But Sansa knew that Sandor had been pain in her belly was still troubling her, but she was determined to not let it bother her today.

Satisfied with her appearance, she turned away from her reflection and headed towards the gardens, Chella in tow. She saw Tyrion already there, waiting for her with his squire and Sansa greeted them both with a smile. She waited while Chella and Tyrion exchanged pleasantries before moving to walk with the dwarf. She kept her pace slow as to match that of his stunted legs. She politely asked him about his work and he responded with a roll of his eyes, making her giggle.

"Thank you for accepting my invitation, my lord. I know with Stannis sailing towards King's Landing you don't have time to waste walking in the gardens, but I remember some nights when my father hadn't spent any time outside of the council chambers. He was a mess, not really being able to focus on anything, until my mother would drag him outside, forcing him to walk with her and speak of anything but what he had been working on. I know how healing it could be to take a break and I doubt anyone is forcing you to do so." She knew that she might regret opening up to the Lannister this way, but she found it healing to speak to anyone fondly about her family and Tyrion had never once admonished her for it before. Now he looked up at her with a strange, but grateful look in his eyes.

"Well I thank you for your kindness, Lady Stark. It has been quite trying, to be honest, and a walk in the garden's is just what I needed. Gives me a chance to stretch these legs as well" he gestured to his feet. "Though I must ask if for the next break we could perhaps play a game of cevasse in my solar."

"Cevasse?" Sansa asked, confused.

"It's a game, my lady. Quite a fun one. And something tells me you might excel at it." Tyrion's smile was not mocking and Sansa found herself intrigued.

"You'll have to teach me, my lord."

"If we both live through Stannis' attack, I will do just that, my lady" he said, looking troubled.

"I will pray for your safe return, my lord." she spoke her courtesies and he turned to look at her, taking a moment to truly appraise her.

"Will you?" Sansa looked at him for a moment and felt her mouth twitch at him unspokenly calling her out on her practiced words. She thought about responding in a similar manner, but again found the truth slipping past her walls.

"I will, Lord Tyrion. Truly." Despite wanting Stannis to take the city, she would honestly keep Tyrion in her prayers, hoping he would come out of the battle unscathed. She doubted he would be in the vanguard, so unless Stannis personally executed him, he would probably make it. Let the battle take Joffrey, but she did hope it would spare the little lord before her. Tyrion smiled at her wryly before they continued their walk.

After about an hour of milling in and out of the flowers, Tyrion's squire came running towards them.

"Forgive me, my lord, my lady," the out of breath squire bowed slightly towards Sansa. "News from the street of steel, my lord. The chain is complete."

Sansa was confused by the boys words, but Tyrion broke out in a grin and thanked the boy, sending him to invite some blacksmiths to the Tower of the Hand. He then turned regretfully towards Sansa.

"You'll have to excuse me, my lady. Business calls. Know that I've truly enjoyed my time with you. I am sure I can now return to work with a clear head. And I have your kind thinking to thank for that." His smile turned serious as he continued more quietly. "I know that my sister has invited you to stay with the other ladies at court and her in Maegor's holdfast when Stannis comes. Please do so, but make sure you have Chella with you. And if at any point you feel as if the battle has turned against us, I want you to take her and barr the two of you in your chambers. Stannis won't hurt you, but I can't say the same for his men. Or ours, to be honest."

Sansa listened intently and nodded tightly at his words. He swept her another bow before waddling away.

That night, the castle was abuzz. Stannis' ships were spotted not a days travel away. They would be upon them come tomorrow and everyone was frantically preparing. Her handmaidens were giddy with gossip as they cleared Sansa's dinner away and readied her for the night. One of the youngest, Sara, was brushing her mistresses hair- doing a rather poor job as she hit tangle after tangle, making Sansa wince.

"Where is Shae?" she scanned the room, looking for the foreign beauty, but did not see her among the other maids. "Have you seen her, Sara?" she asked, missing her gentle hand.

"She left this morning, m'lady. Didn't give us warning or nothing. Just up and took off with the month's wages." Sara grumbled, struggling through Sansa's thick auburn locks.

Sansa felt a stab of loss at the news, wishing that she had cleared up whatever had soured their friendship. "I'm sorry to hear that, Sara." The girl just shrugged as if it didn't matter too much to her.

As Sansa laid down onto her pillows later that night, she thought over her conversations with Tyrion. The more she got to know him, the more she felt her walls crumbling around him. He reminded her of her family. Reminded her of the easy jokes that always flowed at the dinner table in Winterfell. She closed her eyes, sending a final prayer to the seven to protect him against whatever came tomorrow.

 **A/N: A little bit of fluff leading up to the next chapter. Also some sweet Sansa/Tyrion moments.**


	8. Chapter 8

The fire was everwhere, all consuming. Screams filled the air as men fought and died in the mud below. Tyrion looked on in horror at the green flames that licked away at Stannis' fleet. The burning ships were slowly sinking into the Blackwater, and Tyrion's massive chain had cut the fleet in half. Stannis' other men could only watch as their comrade's screamed for help as they burned. Tyrion felt sick as the scent of burning flesh washed over him in the sweltering heat. He could hardly believe that he had contributed so single-handedly to all these men's deaths.

He could hear the terror in his troop's voices as they were abandoned by their king. Joffrey was a coward and a fool and he might well have cost them this battle. When the Hound had deserted, it had hurt morale, but watching the man they were fighting for flee had crushed what was left of their fighting spirit. Tyrion inwardly cursed his nephew as he climbed the steps. Someone needed to give these men some inspiration.

Sansa winced as a particularly loud crash reverberated through the keep. Her fingers tightened painfully around the goblet of wine that the queen had forced on her. Cersei was getting thoroughly drunk as the battle waged outside and seemed to find it necessary to give Sansa biting advice for when she became queen. She was getting more and more antagonizing, making snide remarks about most the noble women staying with them.

She snorted drunkenly as one small girl burst into tears. Sansa set her goblet down and ignored Cersei's glares as she made her way to the small girl. Kneeling down to be eye to eye with her, Sansa gave the child her sweetest smile.

"Hello there sweetling. What is your name?"

The girl looked at her hesitantly, shrinking into her mother's skirts, clearly terrified. Sansa tried not to grimace as Cersei barked out a cruel laugh behind her. She sank to her knees and then sat on the ground next to the little girl, arranging her skirts modestly. She gestured towards the mother who joined her on the ground, drawing her daughter into her lap.

"Her name is Moyra. Moyra Sarwyck, from Riverspring." Another Lannister bannerman. They sure did like to surround themselves with Westerlanders.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Lady Moyra. And you as well Lady Sarwyck" the little girl smiled at the formal greeting, before shyly pushing her head into her mother's shoulder.

"Her father is out there, in the vanguard." Lady Sarwyck frowned worridly, looking out towards the green flames the ladies could make out through the window.

"I'm sure your husband is fighting bravely", Sansa assured the woman. She noticed the attention from the other women in the room as well. "As all your husband's are. Now we are safe and sound in here and your father-" the tweaked Moyra's nose, "-is fighting to make sure we stay that way. Why don't we sing a hymn?"

Sansa ignored Cersei's murderous looks as the noblewomen smiled and joined her group.

Tyrion stood before the men, beseeching them to fight with him. His voice was raspy from smoke inhalation, but he powered through, knowing if these men didn't give it their all, they would all be dead come sun up. Hell, even if they did, they might still be rushing to their death. He looked at their faces and knew that these men didn't care for Joffrey-who had left them at the first sign of danger- or for any glory.

"Don't fight for a king. Don't fight for his kingdoms. Don't fight for honor, or glory or riches because you won't get any. This is YOUR city Stannis means to sack. That's YOUR gate he's ramming. If he gets in it will be YOUR house that burns, YOUR gold he steals, and YOUR women he rapes." He could see the change in their demeanor as they thought about the personal losses that would come if the city fell. Could see the thoughts of their children burning, their wives bleeding on the ground, the homes pillaged. He watched as their grips tightened on their weapons and the fire return to their eyes. Another crash of the battering ram rang through the air, but this time, there was less fear in the men's faces.

"Those are brave men knocking at our door. Let's go kill them!" His words were met with a roar of approval as he walked down to meet them before signaling for the door to be opened. He took a moment to take a deep breath, closing his eyes and focusing on the task at hand. If he met his end out there, he would die knowing he had done everything he could to protect his family and the people of King's Landing. A certain maid with eyes as blue as the sea flashed through his mind. Perhaps her prayers would be answered and he would live to see the dawn.

 **A/N: This was originally a very long chapter, but I ended up cutting it into two short ones. Not to worry though, as I will be posting the other half very soon. It's almost completely written already, so as soon as put the finishing touches on it, it will be up. Hopefully by the end of the night!**


	9. Chapter 9

The peace that Sansa had helped create was shortlived. Almost as soon as little Moyra was smiling again, Lancel Lannister had burst into the room, covered in blood and reeking of smoke. He had spoken quickly and quietly with the queen, but all the women were listening as he confirmed their fears. The battle was lost. As the drunk queen knocked Sir Lancel to the ground and fled the room, the women in the room descended into chaos and there was nothing Sansa could do. Her eyes slid to Sir Illyn Payne and she remembered Cersei's words when they had first been shut away. That he was there for them. She stood swiftly and moved to Chella, who had been steadily drinking with the guards, angry that she was not allowed in the battle.

"Chella, we must go," she whispered urgently. "I don't trust my safety here."

The woman nodded immediately, glad to finally see some action. "The little lord said to take you to your chambers and barr the door should anything happen. We must move swiftly."

She barreled her way through the guards haphazardly trying to keep them in the room, not listening to their protests. The halls of the keep were mostly abandoned, though they did pass a servant or two, obviously looting from the castle. Chella ignored all of them as she hustled Sansa through. They quickly made their way to Sansa's door and she slipped inside. After a bit of pressuring, Chella followed her into the room. Sansa had argued that Stannis' men would quickly cut her down if they saw her outside, but barred in the room with her charge, she would stand a better chance of both surviving and protecting Sansa. That and the time would pass so much quicker with company.

They had only been there for a moment, when the door was tested by someone out in the hall. Sansa felt fear grip her as the door struggled against it's locks. Chella was rising from her seat, gripping her axe, ready to fight, when a voice rang out.

"Are you in there, little bird?"

Sansa placed a hand on Chella's arm, halting her. "Sandor?" she called through the door, hesitant to open it before she knew what was on the other side.

"Aye little bird, it's me."

With a disapproving look from her guardian, she undid the bolt from the door and cracked it open just wide enough to glimpse the broken man on the other side. Sandor was fierce even perfectly clean with his wild scars, but covered in blood and soot, drunken as she'd ever seen him, and with a crazed look in his eye, the Hound was truly fearsome. Yet Sansa still let the door fall open. She knew she was safe.

Sandor snorted at the sight of the clans woman, axe in hand, standing right behind her. "Seems you got a dog of your own now, little bird. Trust her, do you?"

Sansa smiled towards Chella before nodding. "I do."

Sandor grunted before addressing Chella "Can I speak to her? For a just a moment? You could be right outside."

Chella looked ready to argue, but Sansa stopped her again, looking up at her pleadingly. She didn't know what the Hound wanted, but she knew that the man had never hurt her. He had done his best to look out for her while they had both been under that tyrant, Joffrey. Whatever he wanted to say to her, he deserved to say it. And Chella would be right there if she was needed. Reluctantly, Chella stepped outside and let Sandor enter. "If you need anything, Lady Sansa, just scream. I can take this wounded dog on his best day, let alone now."

Sandor snorted at that and limped into the room. "The bitch is right, little bird. My fighting days are done for. Can't well be the Lannister's dog if I can't bite. I'll be going now. Might be headed North. Had half a mind to take you with me, but I doubt your woman will let me steal you."

Although Sandor's words held no threat, Sansa was instantly thankful for Chella's presence. She doubted that Sandor would ever truly force her, but she was glad she wouldn't have to find out. Not that the thought of someone taking her home was so abhorrent, but if news was true, it might be unnecessary. If Stannis won the battle, he wouldn't harm her. If the Lannister's prevailed...well she had heard from the queen's own lips that she would be better protected.

"So I have come here to settle a debt instead. I was owed a song, little bird. I've come to collect." He then collapsed onto the bed, sitting there looking utterly defeated. "Florian and Jonquil, I believe it was" he muttered drunkenly.

Sansa moved to the small window, turning her back to the man and looking out over the bay. As far as she could see there was death. Burning wreckage of ships, thick black smoke, and the sounds of dying men. Unbidden, The Mother's Hymn flew from her lips. Her voice was slow and sad as the song drifted back to the Hound and by the time she finished, she saw thick tears rolling down his cheek. Her own eyes started to water as she stared at this broken, dishevelled man. He had been shunned and kicked around his whole life-shown nothing but disgust and hatred from everyone. She reached out and placed a delicate hand on his shoulder, ignoring the sticky blood that covered the armour there. He looked up at her and they shared a moment of compassion. Two people who had been beaten by the truth of the world. He then rose and without a word, ripped the stained white cloak from his shoulders. Tenderly, for a man his size, her draped it over her shoulders, just like he had in the throne room those days ago. He left without a backwards glance at her, leaving her alone in her rooms. She sent a prayer to the Mother to watch over Sandor Clegane, where ever life ended up taking him.

...

It was over. He was dead. His face was sunk into the mud and blood was running down his cheeks. He reached out feebly to Pod. The boy had saved him from an even bloodier death. Balon Swann, that cursed man had taken a spear to the head after he had slashed at the dwarf. Tyrion was only happy that he had seen the man dead before he himself slipped away from the world. He took his last moments of eye sight to survey his surroundings. It's not that the men he had propelled into battle were not fierce enough. He had been proud to see the soldiers meet Stannis' trained men with fervor. They had just been vastly outnumbered. Now they were dying all around him, laying in their own blood. Tyrion grasped his squires hand, thanking him for his unendingly loyal service. Just as the black started to close in on him, he heard the sounds of trumpeting war horns.


	10. Chapter 10

Sansa placed her hands on the smooth marble of the balcony to steady herself. She had been standing for hours now, watching Joffrey thank soldier after soldier, family after family, and the procession had been remarkably tedious, but she knew her part was coming up. Joffrey's pretty words made her sick. She had heard the whispers around court-that he had fled like a coward from the fight and it had been Tyrion who had led the charge and prevailed until Tywin had arrived with the Reach forces. Sansa looked out over the faces at court with disgust wondering if any of them had even thought of the man who had saved them all.

Poor Tyrion had still not woken. Sansa had visited the tower multiple times to see his progress, but each time there was no change. The little lion looked even smaller in the rickety bed that the small chamber had been equipped with. The rooms were nowhere near as nice as his old chamber in the Hand's rooms, but Tywin had been quick to occupy his spot and move his son into smaller, sparser rooms. She had taken to sitting in the uncomfortable chair next to the bed and reading aloud from the collection of books that had been kicked out of the Hand's chambers with the dwarf. She doubted that Tyrion could hear her, but it certainly made the time pass quicker.

It was too bad she didn't have a book today in court though. As the king made a grand show of announcing his grandfather, Sansa had to fight not to roll her eyes. Couldn't this just be over already? But she knew that before it could come to a closing, she would have a part to play. Cersei had come to her this morning and informed her of what was to come. Her cold hands had gripped her arm, nails digging into the skin.

"I will NOT have my son humiliated!"she had hissed in Sansa's ear. "Do you hear me? You will cry and simper and act as one should after being rejected by the king!"

Sansa had nodded obediently and had practiced all morning in the mirror her look of shock and sadness when Joffrey announced that he would end their betrothal. It had been hard to suppress the triumphant smile. _I will be free of Joffrey. I will not have to kiss him, nor give him my maidenhead, nor bear him children. Let Margaery Tyrell have all that, poor girl._ She had thought. Now, looking out over the balcony, she watched the brunette be ushered forward by her brother. The Tyrell girl was beautiful, no one could deny that. She was older than Sansa and her developed body was accentuated by a plunging neckline. Sansa glanced down at her own gown, to her only barely noticable curves, and almost chuckled at the sharp contrast. Everything about Margaery Tyrell was made to stand out in a crowd, while Sansa had made such an effort to blend in without being seen. Biting her lip to fight the smirk off her face at the girls obviously false words, she focused of the proceedings from down below. She forced her eyes to go wide in shock as the Tyrell's made their offer. Bile rose in her throat as Joffrey gallantly defending their betrothal, smirking up at her with gleaming eyes. Joffrey was always a fan of pageantry. Perhaps Margaery Tyrell would be a better actress than her.

Cersei had stepped in, all cold grace in her crimson gown and tightly braided hair. "Your Grace, your councillors beg you, for the good of the realm, set Sansa Stark aside-" her catlike green eyes flashed to Sansa on the balcony and narrowed. "The Lady Margaery will make you a far more suitable queen." She seemed to be satisfied by Sansa's reaction and turned back to her son. Sansa felt her knees go weak and her chest tighten in this tense moment.

Joffrey raised a hand and dramatically turned away from his mother. "I would like to heed the wishes of my people, mother, but I took a holy vow."

His words took the air out of her lungs. He couldn't take this back, could he? It would be just like Joffrey to spurn the wishes of the queen and Lord Tywin just to torture Sansa. She felt her eyes fill with real tears and she shut them tightly, praying to whatever God would listen to make Joffrey let her go. She missed the septon's logic under the pounding in her ears.

 _Please, please just agree. Let me go. Let me go. Let me go..._

 _"_ The Gods are good!" her eyes snapped open and met with the gleaming green of the king. Like always, Joffrey was just toying with her. Drawing out the scene to make it as tense and dramatic as possible. The tears in her eyes spilled onto her cheeks in relief, though she hoped it looked like despair. Unable to keep the smile from her lips, she turned away from the balcony, pushing her way through the courtiers who looked on pityingly. If they only knew how happy she was...

As soon as she passed them, she allowed her mask to fall. A true smile came to her lips and in her relief she almost laughed. She walked with a lighter foot and thought to make her way to Tyrion's chamber. His comatose figure was the only one she could trust to share her glee. A voice behind her calling her name stopped her though and she slipped back on a forlorn face, turning to face the man.

"Lord Baelish" she greeted politely, yet sadly. Screaming in her head to contain her joy and obey Cersei's order.

"My Lady" his syrupy tone greeted. "I'm so sorry for your loss..."

"They're right," she gestured towards the crowd, who was now openly chanting for the Lady Margaery. "I'm not good enough for him-"

"Oh I wouldn't say that. You'll be good for plenty of things, Lady Sansa. He'll still enjoy beating you. And now that you're a woman, he'll enjoy you in other ways.." his words washed over her like ice water. They were spoken so casually and light-hearted, as if he were speaking about the weather, not her rape. She felt her breath come a little quicker as she begged her mind not to panic.

"But...but if he's not to marry me..."

"You think he'll let you go?" He looked at her mockingly and she cursed her foolishness. Of course Joffrey wouldn't allow her to return home. She was just as much a prisoner as before. Only now she wasn't the king's betrothed. She wouldn't have the title of queen to save her from scorn. Any children that would be forced in her belly would come out a bastard-not a prince or princess. Even in her despair, she didn't miss his eyes sliding over her form, making her shiver. "You look so much like your mother. She was a great friend of mine. For that reason I will help you. I can get you home..."

Sansa felt her muscles seize as fear washed over her. His words should be comforting and give her hope, but his appraising eyes did little to put her at ease. She wouldn't know what would happen to her in this man's hands. He looked as if he wanted to devour her. She instantly thought of Tyrion. If he woke, he wouldn't allow Joffrey to use her like Baelish might. He promised to protect her. She had to trust one person in the world, and that person would not be Petyr Baelish. Sansa forced herself to stand tall and paint a smile on her face.

"Kingslanding is my home." She put as much enthusiasm in her words as was possible after her dreams of escape were crushed.

Baelish returned her smile with one just as false before placing his hand on her shoulder, turning her back to face the court. "Look around you, my lady" his warm breath tickled her neck as he whispered in her ear. "We're all liars here. And all better than you." And with that he squeezed her shoulder one last time and walked away.

 **A/N: Sorry about the delay! With everything going on in America lately I've been a little distracted. Hope you all enjoy! Please review!**


	11. Chapter 11

Sansa sighed deeply, rubbing the bridge of her nose. She had been in Tyrion's chamber for over an hour now, reading aloud from a book about dragons. While she had read from this particular book before and had been fascinated by it, today it just seemed tedious. But to be honest, she wasn't sure if she would rather be doing anything else. She had sent Chella away, wanting to be as alone as possible without really being alone. She glanced over to Tyrion's bandaged face and closed the book gently. The past few days, his silent company was the only she could stomach. Everyone seemed eager to either give her false sympathies or whisper behind her back since Joffrey had denounced their betrothal. She had done a good job of avoiding everyone though, spending most of her time in her chambers, the godswood, or Tyrion's rooms. She had only had to face Tyrion's cutthroat friend and his shy, blushing squire for the most part, but they didn't bother her. To be honest, the worst had been when she Pycelle had slipped into the rooms quietly, unaware of her presence. The maester seemed shocked to see her, awkwardly glancing at her throughout his examination. He had left quickly and Sansa had to wonder if all he was going to do was glance at his patient, what was the purpose of a visit?

She set the book on the small table and stood,brushing out her skirts. She supposed there was time to visit the sept and light a candle for her family and Tyrion before she could send for supper in her rooms. She took Tyrion's limp hand in hers and wished him good health and made for the door. Over the rustling of silk, she made out a small sigh from behind her. She whipped around, stepping back to the bed and searching his covered face, looking for a sign of life. She stood for a moment, watching the man breathe, before figuring she had just heard something that wasn't there. She turned back towards the hall and gently closed the door behind her.

She had barely made it a few feet before fingers wrapped around her wrist, twisting her around and up against the wall roughly. Sansa's breath caught in her throat as she came face to face with the man she had been most desperate to avoid.

"Y-your grace!" she stuttered fearfully, terrified by the cruel grin on his face.

"I feel as if you've been avoiding me, My Lady" Joffrey sneered. "Can you tell me why that is?"

Sansa was breathing hard now, her eyes darted down the empty hallway, looking for any escape. But surprisingly, Joffrey was alone. Sansa didn't know if that was a good sign or bad as she would probably be spared a vicious beating, but she was unsure of what Joffrey wanted from her.

Feeling like a trapped little bird, she searched her mind for the right words. Perhaps she could get out of this unscathed. "No, your grace. I have not meant to be avoiding anyone! It's just..." she forced herself to look down, forlorn, "I...I didn't think you'd want to see me. What would you want with me anymore, now that you have the Lady Margaery. She is so lovely! She'll make a much better queen than I. Your mother and the high septon were right, with my traitorous blood I was unfit-" she babbled desperately but was cut off when Joffrey tightened his grip on her arms to a bruising level.

"The Lady is pretty enough. Not beautiful, like you though" Joffrey's hand moved to her hair, wrapping his fingers through her loose tresses. The touch was almost gentle for a moment before this grip tightened, pulling her hair taught and her head back. Sansa gasped in pain as her scalp screamed and her eyes watered. "But it is no matter, My Lady" Joffrey harshly whispered into her exposed neck as he leaned in closer- one hand still holding her up against the wall and the other still wrapped in her hair. "A king can have any woman he wants. Whether they wish it or not. My father had many women besides my mother. Lady Margaery will not come between us. You can still have a king inside you."

Gods, Lord Baelish was right, she was such and idiot thinking that Joffrey would let her go. As his wet lips made contact with her neck, her eyes betrayed her by allowing a tear to slip down her cheek. She wouldn't be surprised if he took her right there in the hallway. There was no one to stop him. They were all alone in a secluded part of the keep. No one would come and help her.

So when a door a few feet away from them slammed open, they both jumped. Joffrey even took a step away from her, dropping his hands from her skin. Sansa gasped again when she saw who had surprised them. Tyrion, leaning heavily on the chair that she had just been sitting in, had clearly dragged his way out of bed and into the hall. Although one eye was still covered haphazardly with bandages, the other was glaring fiercely at the king, who looked abashed.

"Lord Tyrion!"

"Uncle!"

The two spoke in tandem at their surprise.

"Ah dearest nephew," Tyrion practically spat, still looking murderous. "I thought I heard your voice. I couldn't help but come and pay my respects. I see you have conquered your enemies in the battlefield." Sansa's gaze darted between the two Lannisters, from Tyrion's heated glare to Joffrey's ashamed, reddening face. "Run along now, nephew. Run and tell your grandfather I've awaken."

Joffrey looked as if he wanted to argue, before giving in, glaring at his uncle and Sansa. As he stomped down the hall, Sansa could only stare incredulously at the dwarf before her. As soon as the king turned the corner, Tyrion collapsed onto the chair, breathing heavily. Sansa rushed forward, concerned.

"Lord Tyrion? Are you okay?"

"Please, my lady, if you would please help me back to my bed. I don't think I did myself any favors moving so quickly after...this" he guestured towards his bandaged body. Sansa immediately moved to support him as he limped back into his room. "But I heard your voices. I couldn't stand sitting there while you were tormented again."

"I don't understand, my lord. When did you wake?"

"I've been able to hear things since what I assume was this morning. Although I couldn't move, I must thank you for reading so kindly to me. It certainly made being aware, but unable to move much more bearable." Sansa helped him back into the bed, and watched as he clutched the bandage on his torso. "It was only when I heard him in the hallway that I found the strength to move. But I fear I've reopened this cut on my chest." his hand came away bloodied and Sansa felt herself pale.

Sansa moved quickly towards the door. "I will bring the maester right away!" As the hastened to open the door, she hesitated just a moment, turning back to see Tyrion again. "I see I am once again in your debt, my lord. It seems as if you're always right there when I need help. I am so thankful that the Gods answered my prayers." Tyrion looked at her in wonder before she closed the door and rushed towards help.


	12. Chapter 12

Sansa was pleased to see that Tyrion was recovering as well as they could've hoped for. Now that she was no longer set to be Joffrey's wife, Cersei had lost all interest in her, which left Sansa plenty of time to continue her growing friendship with the only Lannister she could stand. They had spent at least an hour a day together, talking about their childhood homes and their families. Perhaps she was being foolish for opening up to someone so fully and quickly after she had been burned so many times before, but it felt so right talking to him. She had pretended her family were traitors for so long, it felt so freeing to be able to really talk about them. She had been in such isolation since her father was beheaded. She had lived in constant fear and surrounding herself with those emotional walls had left her so lonely. Tyrion had yet to let her down and she was happier than she'd been in months.

Now she furrowed her brow as she surveyed the board in front of her. Tyrion had been right, Cyvasse was quite an entertaining game. He had easily been able to explain the complicated game and although she hadn't won a game yet, she felt good about this afternoon. Her fingers hovered over her dragon before moving one of her elephants in direct line with his king. If she was right, he'd have to move his calvary to defeat the elephant which would then leave his catapults undefended. Once her dragon wiped those out, the game would be all but won. A few turns later, and she was proved right. Sansa ended up taking his king with a lowly spearman that Tyrion had clearly forgotten about. Realizing his mistake, Tyrion groaned loudly and comedically, slapping his hands on his healing face. Sansa giggled at his show of defeat.

"I knew you'd be marvelous at this, my lady" he swept the pieces back into the elaborate box as he smiled up at her. "I should have consulted you before the battle!"

"Oh, I'm not sure about that" Sansa said, rolling her eyes. "I'm just Cersei's simple little dove. I've no head for strategy, this was clearly just dumb luck." She tried to brush his words away, but when she met his gaze she was surprised to see a hint of anger in his eyes. He had stopped his movements and was just staring at her with almost a glare.

"Sansa, my sister is a fool to think that of you. And you're the bigger fool if you believe her!" Although his words were said with some anger, Sansa couldn't help the flush that came to her cheeks. "You're clearly of stronger wits than they all think you to be. I thought you were just playing the game...Do you actually believe them?" Now he looked at her curiously and Sansa couldn't keep his gaze. Her fingers gripped her silk skirts tightly as she stared at her hands, ashamed. She didn't even look up when she heard his chair scrape back and his heavy limp towards her. She only looked up when he took her hand in his and when she did all signs of annoyance were gone. Now only concern and care were in his eyes and it made Sansa's eyes well with tears. All she had heard for months was how stupid she was. Hells it had been much longer than even when she came to King's Landing.

Hadn't all her siblings at some time or another laughed at her. Called her 'airheaded' and laughed at her? They had never used the word 'useless', and had clearly only been teasing, but they had all talked about how perfect of a lady she was, being able to dance and sing and sew. She had been pretty and pleasant, but she was useless. And when she was under Cersei and Joffrey, they blatantly called her simple and stupid. Stupid, silly Sansa. Sansa with stupid dreams in her head that never learns. To be honest, she had been excited when she had been learning this game. She had picked up on the complicated rules quickly and had been excited to beat Tyrion, who was one of the smartest people she knew. But when he had praised her, she had not listened. Not believing his words.

"Sansa," he said much more gently, frowning at her tears. "My family has underestimated you severely. You are such an intellegent, capable person. You are not only well versed in the ladylike behaviour, you are shrewd and able to survive in a court where you are all alone. And you've still managed to keep your kindness after all the pain my family has put you through. It takes a special kind of strength to do that." he was looking at her earnestly and speaking in a low, gentle tone, but Sansa was hanging on his every word.

Embarrased by her tears, she moved to wipe them from her face. She tried to laugh away her insecurities, but Tyrion held fast to her hand, looking up at her seriously.

"Sansa, I mean it. I'm enthralled by you and your strength. You are an amazing woman." They gazed at each other for a moment before he suddenly let her go and turned away, moving back to his chair. Sansa's hand instantly felt cold without his touch and she moved it to her chest. Why did her face feel so hot? She glanced at Tyrion and saw his own face was reddened. Perhaps it was the wine they were drinking. He continued stuffing the pieces back into the box before Sansa stopped him.

"Reset the board, my lord. I'd like to see if I can start a winning streak."

He smirked up at her before staring to set the board up again.

"Tyrion..." he mumbled

"Pardon?"

"My name is Tyrion, Sansa."

She smiled brightly. "Tyrion" she agreed.

 **A/N: A little bit of fluff! I couldn't help putting out a chapter of just them interacting together. I feel like Sansa would struggle to recognize certain strengths within herself and I wanted to highlight that he sees that in her. Hope you enjoyed these few chapters that I've uploaded today! Please let me know how you like it  
**


	13. Chapter 13

The woman on the other side of the mirror was so different from the girl who had come to King's Landing. Sansa's body was growing more every day. She was taller than ever now and her childish gowns she had come south with would not even fit over her chest, let alone to the floor. She had used what little funds she had left to commission a few new gowns and her handmaidens were lacing her into one of them now. They were all dark, muted colors to keep her out of Joffrey's radar, but were made with fine silk and cut to fit her growing figure and make her look like a true lady. This one was a sage green with fine, grey myrish lace decorating the bodice and sleeves. The hint of grey was the closest Sansa would dare to wear her house colors and she figured the green would appeal to her company today.

She was waiting for Sir Loras to arrive and escort her to the gardens. The letter Lady Margaery had sent her this morning had politely requested her to have tea with the ladies of Highgarden. Sansa didn't know what to think of the invitation, but could hardly turn it down. She was hopeful in regards to the Reach ladies, remembering how kind and handsome Sir Loras had been when she had first seen him. She knew she would never forget being singled out from the crowd and she had kept the red rose he had given her until it had rotted away. So much had happened since that tourney, she hoped the handsome knight would remember her. When the knock came to her door, she felt her breath quicken. Chella rolled her eyes at Sansa's excitement, but moved to open the door, revealing the knight.

Sir Loras looked as dazzling as he had that day in his shining green and gold armour. His brown curls framed his smooth face perfectly and Sansa felt her heart pound as her cheeks flooded with heat. Sir Loras smiled at her and offered her his arm.

"My Lady, you grow more beautiful by the day. Please let me escort you to the gardens" his strong, deep voice made her grin with a blush as she stepped forward and allowed him to lead her away.

As they walked through the keep, Sansa was surprised to find the conversation rather stilted. In an effort to get him talking, she asked him about his horses and his tourney wins, knowing it was in his interests. But while he answered her politely and with a smile, it didn't seem as if he cared about the conversation. She recalled how detailed Tyrion's description of the Rock was: how he had described the way the sunlight would bounce off the water below and make the castle walls sparkle at sunset. She smiled inwardly, remembering how she had told him about the silent, cold sunrises on the walls of Winterfell. How the pale pink of the sky had made the freshly fallen snow look like rose colored silk. Small details about her home that she had wanted to share with him.

"What's your favorite part of Highgarden, my lord? I've read about it and it sounds so intriguing." She was eager to hear more about the plentiful Reach. Hoping that he would give her some insight as Tyrion had.

But Loras only shrugged slightly. "The training grounds, I suppose? I haven't really thought about it. But that is where i spend most of my time."

Sansa tried not to be disappointed with his shallow answer, just swallowed tightly as they fell back into an awkward silence. "That must be why you're so talented on the tourney field" she finally said and he smiled at her. "You probably don't remember, but that was when we first met, with you on the field for the Hand's Tourney." She was surprised when Loras looked at her skeptically, clearly confused. Had he forgotten? He must remember-he had singled her out from all the other lovely maids there. It had been such a huge moment for her. Probably the first time she felt like a true, grown lady. "You...you gave me your favor?" she tried, but he again just shrugged and continued onward, as if it hardly mattered. Annoyance flooded through her and she tried again. "A rose...a red rose!"

Now he nodded patronizingly "Of course I did" he smiled and patted her hand as it rested on his arm. Sansa wanted to make him remember, give him more details, sure he would remember, but she bit her lip to stop herself. She was being foolish, the moment that had been so important to her had clearly not meant anything to him. It had been a piece of pageantry, not anything real. Disappointed, she allowed him to finish the walk in silence. Loras clearly had no interest in asking her anything about herself or working at all to make conversation.

They finally came upon the Lady Margaery waiting for them. Sansa wouldn't have thought it five minutes ago, but she was desperate to be out of Sir Loras' company. Perhaps the Tyrell ladies would be of more substance. She was relieved when Loras simply bowed to her and left her with his sister.

Lady Margaery was just as beautiful as her brother. Her soft brown curls cascaded over her bare shoulders and back and her brown eyes were warm as she smiled at Sansa. She placed her arm around Sansa's shoulders familiarly as she pulled her towards the bustling gardens. "Come," she said with a dazzling smile, leading her through the throngs of giggling Reach women. They all parted for her, dipping in respectful curtseys. "Lady Sansa, it is my honor to present my grandmother, Lady Olenna of House Tyrell" Sansa was guided towards a seated old woman, who reached out her arm in greeting.

"Kiss me child" Sansa bent over to greet the woman and they exchanged in light-hearted pleasantries. Sansa expressed her condolances over Lord Renly's death which seemed to spark some fire in Lady Olenna. Sansa's eyes widened in shock as she listened to the old woman cut down Renly, Loras, and even her son, the lord of Highgarden. Margaery tried to temper her grandmothers words, but Sansa found herself smiling, loving the harsh honesty from the woman.

"Grandmother! What will Sansa think of us?"

"She may think that we have some wits about us. Some of us anyway" Olenna gestured towards the babbling Reach men and women around them. "It was treason, I told them. Robert has two sons and Renly has an older brother. How can he possibly have any claim to that ugly iron chair? We should have stayed well out of all this, if you ask me. But once the cow's been milked, there's no squirting the cream back up her udder, so here we are to see things through. What do you say to that, Sansa?" Lady Olenna's fierce gaze turned to her and Sansa struggled not to wilt under her eyes.

"Perhaps your son was blinded by the possible payout to worry about specifics...?" Perhaps speaking was a mistake, but Olenna looked at her apprasingly before nodding silently. "Come, Lady Sansa, we've had some lemon cakes made."

"Lemon cakes are my favorite!" Sansa couldn't help the wide smile that came to her face. She hadn't been able to partake in the delicacy in months, ever since Joffrey had become aware of her obsession. He had practically forbid the royal cooks to prepare them at feasts and so Sansa had gone without.

"So we've heard" Olenna said with an indulgent smile.

They seated themselves in the covered pavillion overlooking the bay and the Tyrell matriarch called for the food to be served.

"Do you know my son, Sansa?" Olenna asked her as Sansa took a large lemon cake from the pile on the table.

"I haven't had the pleasure, My lady."

Olenna snorted most unladylike "No great pleasure, believe me. A ponderous oaf. His father was an oaf as well. My husband, the late Lord Luthor. He managed to ride off a cliff whilst hawking. They say he was looking up at the sky and paying no mind to where his horse was taking him. And now my son is doing the same, only this time he's riding a lion instead of a horse." Her words started out pleasantly, but now she had narrowed her eyes at Sansa. "Now... I want you to tell me the truth about this royal boy, this _Joffrey_."

Sansa's hand froze on her lemon cake and she looked back up at the lady in front of her. Olenna was staring at her intently as the energy between the women grew tense. They wanted information from her, that is why they were being so kind. Was this just a trap? If she told them the truth, they might cancel the wedding and perhaps Joffrey would reinstate their own betrothal. Or they would tell the Lannisters what she had said and then she would face Cersei's ire. Her eyes widened in fear as she thought of the consequences she could face. "I..."

"Yes. You. Who else would know better? We've heard some troubling tales. Is there any truth to them? Has this boy mistreated you." Memories of Sir Meryn's blade on the back of her thighs made her mouth go dry. But Olenna just cocked her head to the side in impatience. "Has he carved out your tongue?"

"Jof- King Joffrey is very fair and is as brave as a lion..." Sansa tried weakly.

"Yes, all Lannisters are lions. And when a Tyrell farts, it smells like a rose. But how kind is he? How clever? Has he a good heart and a gentle hand. Will he love and protect Margaery, cherishing her? Tell us the truth. No harm will come to you." How on earth could the Tyrell's promise her that? They couldn't protect her.

"I'm to be his wife." Margaery's gentle tone interrupted her grandmother as she took Sansa's hand in hers. "I only want to know what that means."

Sansa looked at Margaery's wide, sincere brown eyes and felt a stab of pity. She had walked into her betrothal blindly and had been beaten down by it. Her dreams and hopes of a happy marriage with a kind, handsome king had been ruined. If she had known beforehand...if she had been given a chance to protect herself...

Her fingers tightened around Margaery's hand, and she felt tears well in her eyes. "He's...he's a monster" she spoke earnestly and Margaery held her gaze. "He murdered my father. I begged him for my father's life and he promised he would be merciful, but he cut my his head off, and he said _that_ was mercy. He took me up on the walls and made me look at it. When I begged him to stop he had his guards beat me."

"And a few weeks ago? There was some trouble we heard of?" Olenna had listened to Sansa thoughtfully, shooting a cryptic look towards her granddaughter.

"If it wasn't for Lord Tyrion, I don't know if I'd be here today..." Sansa whispered honestly.

"Ah...a pity." Olenna pondered.

Suddenly her words and her own predicament caught up to her. If Cersei found out about what she had said, even Tyrion wouldn't be able to save her.

"Please! You can't cancel the wedding!" she begged wildly.

"Have no fear of that, my dear. The Lord Oaf of Highgarden is determined that Margaery should be queen." Margaery looked slightly disconcerted, but had recovered easily. "Even so, we thank you for the truth, Sansa. It helps to know what we're getting into bed with." Sansa looked intently at the Lady Olenna and recognized the shrewdness.

"Yes, My lady. I wish I had been similarly aware."

Olenna grinned again and waved over a servant, taking some cheese from the platter and holding some out to her. "I would like to have you here again, Lady Sansa. I believe we could have a lot to talk about."

Sansa accepted the cheese and returned the smile shakily. What on earth had she gotten herself into...


	14. Chapter 14

Ever since her lunch with Lady Olenna and Margaery, it seemed as if the whole group from Highgarden wanted to spend time with her. Weeks had gone by before without anyone calling on her, but now she struggled to fulfill all the invitations. Tea with this Reach lady, sewing with that one... It was honestly relatively exhausting. Sansa hadn't even been able to visit with Tyrion much. She had seen him in passing, but with her new active social life and his increasingly diminished place at court, they rarely saw each other.

Sansa thought it unfair how everyone seemed to have forgotten Tyrion's contribution during the battle. Lord Tywin had immediately stepped into his role as Hand and the Tyrell's had received all other credit for the victory. Poor Tyrion was thought of with indifference at best and scorn at worst. It was as if they blamed him for everything that Joffrey's cruelty and ineptitude had brought about. It clearly had an effect on the man and Sansa pitied him. All she could do was to constantly tell him of her own gratitude and to sing his praises to any who would listen, however unenthusiastic the recipient. It was the least he deserved from her. She owed him so much.

Her feelings towards Tyrion confused her. She had finally gotten over his last name, but she was still surprised to feel so comfortable around someone who's entire family she hated and who had betrayed her again and again. And that wasn't even accounting for his face. She had been genuinely confused the other day during her walk with Sir Loras that she couldn't stop thinking about the dwarf. She had been so enthralled with the handsome knight for months, but she had found herself wishing she was conversing with her little lordly friend instead. Loras had been so uninterested in talking with her, and their conversation had been stilted, unlike the hours she had spent with Tyrion. Sansa's taste sure was changing. Hells, just a few months ago she had wanted so desperately to marry Joffrey. She shuddered at the thought and a memory flashed through her mind.

 _"I'm sending you both back to Winterfell" Her father's words were like a knife in her heart as she leapt from the chair._

 _"What?! You...you can't!" her voice was shrill as panic set in._

 _Her father raised his arms in an effort to calm her "Just listen-"_

 _"What about Joffrey? What about our betrothal?"_

 _Arya had shoved her elbow into her side, trying to get her to stop screaming. "Are you dying because of your leg? Is that why you're sending us home?" Her words made Sansa stop, momentarily forgetting her own tragedy, and survey her father, looking for signs that his injury might be fatal._

 _"What? No."_

 _"Please father! Please, don't!" Now that she knew he wasn't dying, there was no reason for her to go._

 _For once, Arya seemed to agree with her. "You can't, father! I've got my lessons with Syrio! I'm finally getting good..."_

 _"This isn't a punishment!" Her father seemed to be at wits end, but who cared. Sansa and Joffrey had just made up from their fight on the Kings Road. He had gifted her a beautiful, golden locket and had even kissed her! They were in love. She couldn't leave now! "I want you back in Winterfell for your own safety." That did not make sense. Sansa was going to be the QUEEN! Why would she be in danger at court?_

 _"Can't we take Syrio back with us?" Arya asked hopefully, obviously not caring whether or not they stayed. Not caring about her sister's happiness, which was crumbling with every word her father said._

 _"Who cares about your stupid dancing teacher" She snapped. "I can't go! I'm to marry Prince Joffrey. I love him and I'm meant to be his queen and have his babies!"_

 _Arya grimaced "Seven hells..."_

 _Her father looked equally disconcerted, but took her hand gently, clearly trying to soothe her. "When you're old enough, I'll make you a match with someone who's brave and gentle and strong-" but Sansa did not care. No other match would make her a queen. No other match would be as perfect as Joffrey._

 _"I don't want someone brave and gentle and strong, I want him! He'll be the greatest king that ever was, a golden lion, and I'll give him sons with beautiful blonde hair!"_

Looking back, she was embarrassed by her words. How silly and foolish and naive she had been, so determined to be queen. If only she had known what she did now, she would have run as fast as she could back home. She would still have her father and her little sister. She wouldn't have had to go through the torment or the beatings...She had been so clueless about the world and she had paid dearly for her naivity. She sighed and lifted her skirts, making her way back towards the godswoods. Thinking about home and what could have been always put her in the mood for praying among the trees.

As she made her way, she couldn't help but reminisce on her father's words. _Brave and gentle and strong..._ She would have been so much better off if she had allowed her father the chance to find her someone like that. Someone who would have treasured her and loved her. That's all she really wanted. Even then, she didn't really care about the power of being a queen, she just wanted to be loved by all her subjects. She wondered who she would be married off to now. If Joffrey did let her go, that is. It would be just her luck to be married to some Lannister cousin that would keep her at court and be well rewarded for allowing the king to take his wife whenever he wished. Honestly, this probably would be her future. Lord Tywin would never allow her to be married into any kind of power for fear of losing the North and she doubted Joffrey would let her out of his clutches. Tears welled in her eyes at this bleak picture.

Deep in her thoughts, she had reached the edge of the water in the godswood and knelt onto the stones below. She mindlessly recited a few prayers from her childhood and tried to lose herself in the comfort the trees provided.

A small cough behind her interrupted her prayers and she whipped around. The Lady Margaery, dressed in another beautiful, revealing gown stood before her, smiling down at her.

"Forgive me, I didn't mean to disturb you," she apologized as she stepped closer.

"You didn't" Sansa insisted. The older girl was always so kind to her and Sansa pitied her situation. She supposed some would be angry at being replaced as the next queen, but Sansa couldn't bring herself to be angry with Margaery.

"What'd you pray for" Margaery smiled conspiratorially, making Sansa smile.

"I can't tell you that" she teased back.

"Oh why not? I'll tell you what I prayed for in the sept this morning!" the girl took Sansa's arm and pulled her back towards the keep. "Let's see...For my family's good health, for an end to the war, for a short winter... Boring and traditional, I'm afraid. And you?"

"About the same, my lady" Sansa lied through a pretty smile.

The girls made their way down to the docks and Margaery enthralled her with a tale of some pretty Reach girl from her childhood.

"So I prayed that she catch some horrid skin disease." Margaery was saying, "About a week after that, she came down with a case of porridge plague"

"Porridge plague?" Sansa asked, confused. She had never heard of such a disease, but then again, the south was always more susceptible to diseases than the frigid north.

"You don't have it in the North?" Margaery mirrored Sansa's thoughts. "Your skin starts to look like boiled oats and eventually your face slides right off and you die in agony."

Grotesque images flooded her mind as she imagined this awful disease and she instantly prayed never to come in contact with such a horrid sickness. "Th-that's awful!" She exclaimed and Margaery nodded gravely before snorting out a laugh, clearly happy to have tricked her.

"You're-" She laughed at her own gullibility. "I believed you! Gods...porridge plague...I'm an idiot"

"Oh don't say that," Margaery laughed with her "No you're not." Sansa smiled, thinking about how Tyrion had, albeit more forcefully, told her the same thing just the other day.

"So what happened to Allana?" She asked, genuinely interested in how Margaery's childhood rival ended up.

"Oh she ended up growing to be the most beautiful woman who married some handsome lord and now they have darling children living in a castle by the sea" Margaery sighed wistfully "It's all terribly frustrating."

Sansa smiled, thinking how that must be such a perfect life. "I'm sure she's jealous of you now, though. You'll be married here in the capital and she'll have to come and watch and pretend that she's happy that you're queen." The girls giggled together at the feminine rivalry. It felt so good to relax with someone near her own age who was genuinely kind to her. Sansa's smile faded slightly though at the thought that soon this kind, beautiful girl would be married to _Joffrey_. Hopefully she would be able to play him better than Sansa had. She seemed to be doing better so far.

Suddenly Margaery reached out and took both Sansa's hands in hers. "I want us to be friends, you and I. Good friends" she said with another kind smile and a squeeze.

Sansa felt her eyes well with tears at Margaery's words. She knew she had a friend in Tyrion, but it wasn't the same as a girl her own age with the same interests. With Margaery by her side, Sansa wouldn't feel half as alone. Even Joffrey would hesitate with openly abusing her if she was close to his future wife. Margaery's friendship would bring something precious- safety.

"That would make me very happy." She hoped the older girl wouldn't notice the shake in her voice.

"You must see Highgarden! You'd love it there, I know you would. We have a great masquerade the night of the harvest moon. You should see the costumes, people work on them for months!" Margaery exclaimed, and for a moment, Sansa hoped to see them, before reality set in.

"I don't think the queen would let me leave King's Landing" she muttered sadly, knowing that Cersei would never let her out of her sights. Sansa was a hostage and you don't send hostages on pleasure excursions where they could escape. No, Sansa would remain behind the walls of the Red Keep until she was sold off in marriage.

"The queen regent, you mean?" Margaery asked as if confused. "Well whenever I marry Joffrey, _I'll_ be queen." Sansa stared at her blankly before she realized what the royal wedding would really mean. Margaery would soon be in power. Perhaps she could persuade the king to allow her to leave. Cersei wouldn't be able to stop her... "And if you were to marry Loras..." Margaery continued in a low tone, "Well, your place would be in Highgarden, wouldn't it?" she finished with a bright smile.

But warning bells rang though Sansa's mind at the mention of her marriage. Traitorous or not, Sansa was a lady born to one of the most powerful families in the seven kingdoms, and Loras was the son to another. Even if Sansa was not a ward of the crown, it would be up to the king to sign off on any marriage of that caliber. Trying to arrange it in secret would be treason.

"Joffrey would never allow that to happen" She stressed.

But Margaery just shrugged and looked out over the sea. "Perhaps I'll ask it of him for a wedding present. Or my father could approach Lord Tywin. We could be sisters, wouldn't you like that?" Margaery's tone was sugary sweet as she held Sansa's hands, and the future she was describing did sound appealing, but Sansa didn't understand why she was being so cavalier. The Lannister's would not appreciate this scheming and it would be Sansa who paid the price. Still, it wouldn't help her to make an enemy of the Tyrell's either, so she bit her tongue and forced a smile to her face.

"I would like that very much." She allowed the older girl to pull her though the gardens, regaling stories of her home, but promised herself that she'd have to tread carefully among the roses.

 **A/N: Thank you guys for your patience with me the past few weeks. With the election and the holidays, I've found myself very distracted. I'll try to keep posting as often as possible though-I hope you all like it! It's fun to write a more aware and mature Sansa.**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Another Tyrion chapter! This is a big moment-hope you guys enjoy.**

Tyrion walked with purpose towards his old rooms. Under his arm he carried the accounts of the crown and he needed to report to the new hand on the costs of the upcoming royal weddings. He had just come from a thorough tongue lashing from the famous Queen of Thornes and he wasn't well looking forward to a similar encounter with his father. Perhaps it wouldn't be as bad as he thought though. Afterall, he had managed to talk to old miserly woman into covering half of the cost.

As he passed the golden lion statues that had been erected since his departure he grimaced. His family was not known for their subtlety and clearly his father was no exception. The hand's chambers were better furnished than when Tyrion had possession of them. The elongated table had been placed in the main presence chamber and this is where his father waited for him, along with, annoyingly, his sister. Clearly this meeting would be as bad as he thought.

"You're late." his father's clipped tone made Tyrion sigh. This was exactly what he needed. Another unending session with his father making sharp, cutting remarks while Cersei looked on with that catlike grin on her face. Tyrion was sure the queen never looked as smug as when their father was reprimanding him.

"What's she doing here?" Tyrion asked as he made his way towards the table.

"Our business here concerns her too. Sit."

Tyrion met eyes with Cersei from across the table as he slammed the heavy ledger he had been carrying onto the table. He took a deep breath and started.

"You'll be pleased to know that after one conversation with Olenna Tyrell, I've saved the crown hundreds of thousands on this wedding..."

"Never mind that now. We have something important to discuss."

"As Master of Coin, saving money is very important." No one else might care to hear it, but the crown was deeply in debt and only sinking further with this opulent affair. Tyrion was sure that his father would care greatly about this issue if the Iron Bank of Braavos were to start funding their enemies. The tiniest of snorts came from across the table and Tyrion turned to the smirk on his sister's face, fuming with annoyance. "Stop that. You're making me uncomfortable."

"Your sister has learned that your new friends the Tyrells are plotting to marry Sansa Stark, another friend of yours, to Sir Loras."

Tyrion's lungs sucked in air at his father's words. He didn't know how to feel about this development. On one hand, it would be safety for Sansa. The Tyrell's would not allow one of their own to be a whipping post, even for their king. She would be the Lady of Highgarden and would be whisked away from King's Landing in a heartbeat. Olenna wouldn't want her around to distract Joffrey from his new queen at the very least. But on the other hand, Sansa would be stuck in a loveless marriage. She may not have said so outright, but Tyrion had gotten to know her quite well lately and if there was ever a person who deserved love, it was Sansa. He knew she craved it and she should have a husband who would worship the ground she walked on. She deserved nothing less after everything that happened with her first marriage proposal. It was certainly an odd and conflicting feeling that washed over him now. But in the end, he knew what he needed to do. Sansa needed to be protected. Needed to be away from Joffrey. Being shackled to a man who would never appreciate or love her the way she should be would be worth it if it meant she was safe. At least she would be a grand lady and if The Knight of Flower's could manage to perform, a great mother.

"Very well. She's a lovely girl. Missing some of Loras' favorite bits, but I'm sure they'll make do."

"Your jokes are not appreciated." His father growled.

"Well it wasn't my best, but I thought-"

"I bring them into the royal fold and this is how they repay me. By trying to steal the key to the North."

Tyrion looked at him skeptically. What claim did Sansa have on the North? Her brother, who was winning every battle, was the King and he was freshly married. An heir would be born any day now. "Sansa is the key to the North? I seem to remember she has an older brother."

"The Karstarks have marched home."Tyrion gulped. That did not fare well for the Stark boy. If the Karstarks had abandoned him, his forces were greatly diminished. He'd have to continue relying on craftiness and luck if he was going to win this war. "The young wolf has lost half his army. His days are numbered. Theon Greyjoy murdered both his brothers. That makes Sansa Stark the heir to Winterfell. And I'm not about to hand her over to the Tyrells." Tyrion's heart sunk at this news. Sansa would be trapped then. There was no escaping the great Tywin Lannister if he had you in his sights. Still, he had to try.

"The Tyrell army is helping us to win this war. Do you really think it's wise to refuse them?"

"There's nothing to refuse." Now his father looked smug. "This is a plot. Plots are not public knowledge. And the Tyrells won't carry this one out until after Joffrey's wedding. We need to act first and kill this union in its crib."

Tyrion sighed heavily. So that option was gone. He only hoped the Tyrell's had not made Sansa privy to this plan. He couldn't imagine how pleased she must have been. He could almost see her bright blue eyes filled with joy and relief at the thought of marrying her handsome knight and being the lady of a great house. To have that ripped away was cruel. He would have to find her and see how much she knew. He would discreetly tell her his father's plans, hoping that he got to her before Joffrey could. She deserved to hear this from a friend.

"And how do we do that?" he asked tonelessly.

"We find Sansa Stark a different husband."

"Wonderful" he replied dryly. Perhaps he could persuade his father to at least marry her to a Lannister that didn't live at court.

"Yes, it is" For the first time in any meeting involving his sister in their entire existence, Tyrion had almost forgotten she was there. Now he turned to her and his stomach sank at the look on her face. He had never seen her happier. Never seen such cruel joy in her face. He was confused, but only for a moment. No... His head whipped to his father and saw the determination in his eyes. No!

"You can't mean it" Please let this be a joke. Please let his father finally find a sense of humor, however misguided this jest was. He cared for Sansa, of course he did, but he couldn't marry her! She was a child! And he a misshapen, useless dwarf! A monster! He didn't want to see the trust die in her eyes, didn't want to force her to give up everything she ever dreamed of in a husband and be shackled to him for eternity. He didn't want to look into her innocent, kind face and see hatred and betrayal. And he didn't want a wife who hated him.

"I can and I do."

Anger started to rise in him. The injustice towards her was overwhelming. "Joffrey has made this poor girl's life miserable since the day he took her father's head. Now she's finally free of him and you want her to give her to me? That's cruel even for you." Tyrion snarled, desperately trying to ignore his sister's smile.

"Do you intend on mistreating her?" Tywin asked mockingly before setting Tyrion with a hard glare. A glare that told him that this would happen regardless to anyone's feelings. Tyrion stared down at the table and took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "In any case, the girl's happiness is not my concern - nor should it be yours. You wanted to be rewarded for you valor in battle. Sansa Stark is a finer reward thank you could ever dare hope for. It is passed time you started acting to benefit your family."

Tyrion just glared at his father. How could he so spectacularly ruin the only good thing Tyrion ever had in his life. Tysha had been raped on his orders, Shae had to be hidden in fear of his threats, and now Sansa's delicate trust was to be shattered. Tyrion's friendship with Sansa was the purest thing Tyrion had ever had, and after the battle of Blackwater and the loss of the position of hand, the only good thing about King's Landing. Not only was she stunningly beautiful, but she had a kind heart and a strong will. The girl was much more intelligent than even she realized and the hours they had spent together just talking had been illuminating. If he wasn't born into this stunted body he would be thrilled to have a woman as she as his wife. But she could never feel the same for him. She only trusted him as a friend but after this betrayal that would all be gone.

"You should be thanking the gods for this. This is more than you deserve." Cersei purred, obviously gloating.

"Tyrion will do as he's bid," their father said in an almost bored tone. "As will you."

Silence engulfed them as the smile faded from Cersei's face.

"You'll marry Sir Loras." The axe fell and Tyrion couldn't help but stare between them. His father ruining his life was almost common occurance, but this...

"I will not." Cersei declared steadfastly, as if she truly had a say in this matter. Tyrion was almost sympathetic to her naivety. As if she had any more of a choice than he.

"The boy is heir to Highgarden. Tyrion will secure the North. You will secure the Reach."

"No...I won't do it." Cersei had begun breathing heavily as she shook her head emphatically.

"Yes, you will. You're still fertile. You need to marry and breed." His father said just the wrong thing.

"I am the _QUEEN REGENT_ , not some broodmare!" his sister exploded, but Tywin quickly overruled her.

"You're my daughter! You will do as I command and you will marry Loras Tyrell and put an end to the disgusting rumors about you once and for all." He glared at her and she could see that yelling would not help her and she quickly switched tactics.

"Father, please" she begged "Don't make me do it again." Tyrion felt his heart twist for his sister. She may be awful and haughty and cruel, but she was his family and he knew what she had dealt with being Robert's queen. Even if they hadn't loved others, it would have been an unhappy marriage. Hearing her beg for freedom made him feel for her.

But Tywin's fist connecting to the table was like a door slamming shut for the both of them. "Not another word!" Tywin growled and looked at the two of them with disgust. "My children. You've disgraced the Lannister name for far too long." And without another word, he stormed from into his inner chamber and slammed the door.

Cersei and Tyrion sat in silence for a moment, reeling from what had just occurred. He glanced up at his sister and saw her fighting to maintain control of her features. Fear, hopelessness, and fury all swirled through her bright green eyes. Green met green as she turned to him, and for a moment, Tyrion hoped that they could share in their misery. Those hopes were dashed as she narrowed her gaze and stood abruptly, all but running from the room, leaving him alone.


	16. Chapter 16

The gardens were stunning this afternoon. Sansa had brought some sewing materials, planning on sitting out in the sun and working on her embroidery. She was reclining on a bench, pulling her needle in and out of the cloth rhythmically and watching Chella out of the corner of her eye. The woman was obviously bored out of her mind and had begun practicing swings of her short sword. Watching the woman move was intriguing and it reminded Sansa of her little sister. Arya would have loved the tribeswoman-admired her strength and skill with a sword. It was too bad Arya had never been allowed to truly practice. She might have been able to protect them when everything had fallen apart. Returning her attention to her needlework, she sent a silent prayer to the Mother that if Arya was still alive that she was safe.

A few moments later, Chella stopped her practice and snapped alert. Sansa's back straightened at the sounds of someone approaching their little corner of the gardens. She met eyes with her guardian who's hand tightened around her weapon. Sansa had told Chella reluctantly about her run-in with Joffrey a few weeks ago and ever since, the woman had refused to let her be alone. Not that Sansa was complaining.

However, as the Knight of Flower's turned the corner and greeted her with a smile, Sansa released the breath she was holding. She placed her needlework to the side and rose to curtsey to the knight.

"Sir Loras," she addressed him and noticed his glance towards Chella. "I don't believe you've met my companion. This is Lady Chella, of the Black Ears, tribeswoman from the Vale." She smirked slightly at the glare Chella sent her at the title, but was pleased when the woman greeted the knight with relative courtesy.

"Lady Sansa, would you walk with me, I'd like to speak to you privately?" Loras sent her a charming smile and held out his arm, but before she could respond, Chella interrupted.

"Privately, no. I'm afraid I will not be letting the Lady Sansa out of my sight." She glared at him and he met her eyes with annoyance. He was about to respond scathingly, but Sansa stepped in. The last thing she wanted was to cause a fight between the two of them. Chella was getting much better at being courteous to the courtiers, but none of them ever tried to stand up to her. She doubted the woman would hold her tongue, even talking to the young lord.

"Perhaps we could sit here, my lord?" The fountain was in a secluded part of the gardens with only one way in. "Chella, could you guard the entrance?" She raised an eyebrow to the warrior who smirked at her interruption, but bowed her head, leaving the two of them.

Sir Loras watched her go with a scowl before turning back to Sansa, wiping the look off his face and replacing it with a forced smile. He led her towards the fountain and they sat together on the edge.

"How are you, my lady?" he asked. "I have not seen you at court lately."

"I am well, thank you for asking." she responded. "I apologize for my absence, I am afraid the court proceedings are quite tedious for my tastes. The king has not ordered my presence, so I do not find my attendance necessary." he nodded and they lapsed into silence.

She sat for a moment, waiting for him to continue the conversation, but it was clear he would not. The silence grew awkward and Sansa was confused. Why would he seek her out if he clearly had nothing to say to her? She knew that the Tyrell's were trying to marry them, was he trying to get to know her? Was he just shy?

Determined to give him a chance, she searched her mind for something to say. "That...that's a lovely pin" she finally said lamely. Why was talking to him so hard? Sir Loras was handsome and a lord and everything that she had ever dreamed of in a then could she think of nothing of interest to say?

Loras looked down on his tunic to the pin in question before shrugging slightly. "It's more of a brooch, really..." Sansa looked down to her slippers before back towards where Chella had wondered off to. She was instantly glad of the woman's departure as she did not trust her not to laugh at this pathetic exchange. Sansa herself struggled not to laugh as Loras continued thoughtfully "Though I suppose a brooch is a sort of pin..." Gods, if the Tyrell's succeeded, Sansa's life would be tedious indeed.

But she'd be away from King's Landing. And that was worth anything.

With escape in mind, she forced herself to smile up at the lord. Loras seemed preoccupied-probably still hung up on brooches- so Sansa fluttered her eyelashes and tilted her head, letting her auburn waves fall over her shoulder. She was well aware of her growing body and the effect it had on men. Sir Loras may not respond to her words, but maybe he would respond to her in other ways. She felt foolish for her peacocking when Loras didn't even look at her.

She tried again, placing her delicate hand on his arm, finally drawing his attention. "I'm very happy...about..." She felt like she couldn't come out and speak about their possible marriage. Not when it was so dangerous and not even fully secured. And she wanted to know his thoughts. Was he pleased about the turn of events? He had sought her out this afternoon, hadn't he? But again, he responded indifferently, only glancing at her in confusion before understanding her train of thought.

"Oh! Yes...yes...Me too!" he hastened to assure her, but Sansa could tell he didn't care. Perhaps this was all the queen of thornes idea. They wouldn't be the first noble couple to be married without any natural feelings for each other, but Sansa was still disappointed. They talked absently about the wedding procedure, but she couldn't shake the feeling of rejection that was seeping through her slowly. Sir Loras was obviously uninterested in her. He treated her courteously enough, but their interactions were so apathetic. She guided the conversation to an end and stood quickly. She curseyed quickly and excused herself, gliding out of the square and towards Chella. The woman was sitting on a rock by the entrance, cleaning her teeth in the reflection of her blade. At Sansa's approach, she jumped back to her feet.

"What's the matter, little lady?" she asked from the look on Sansa's face. "Your flower boy upset you?" Chella looked past her towards the square and her grip on her sword tightened.

"Nothing like that, Chella. No reason to geld the man. He's just...I don't know what's wrong with me" Sansa spoke sadly as the two made their way back to the keep. "No matter what I do, he just seems so... Am I ugly? Stupid and boring?" Sansa racked her mind, wondering what the problem was. The looks from the men at court told her that she held some allure. And her many conversations with Tyrion, who was one of the most intelligent, charismatic person she knew told her that she had some wits about her. What did Sir Loras see in her that was lacking? If they truly were to be married, would he be so disappointed? Sansa did not want a husband that did not want her. She wanted someone who would love her and encourage her and challenge her in ways she never had been before. Someone who could teach her about the world and hold her hand as they explored together. She dropped her head. That would never happen though. Sir Loras was the best possible outcome in her situation. She only wished she could find more joy from this.

Chella snorted loudly, causing Sansa to look at her angrily. She had found a friend in the warrior woman and didn't understand why she would laugh so callously at her pain.

"Isn't you that's the problem, little one. Well...it is you, but nothing you can change" Chella laughed, fueling Sansa's ire.

"What is that supposed to mean?" she demanded.

"Let's just say I don't think he would be happy in any marriage."

Sansa stared ahead blankly as her mind worked. "Is he in love with another?" she queried and Chella shrugged.

"Was, I hear. If the men in the yard are to be believed. None other than a certain lord of the Stormlands..." Sansa blinked in surprise. Lord Renly?

"But...But Lord Renly...and Loras?" Chella burst out laughing at the utterly confused look on Sansa's face.

"Ain't unheard of, little one. They've tried to keep it a secret, but the men talk. But as you can see, there ain't nothing wrong with you. You're just not his type" Chella guffawed.

As they walked back to the keep, Sansa couldn't help her mind whirling over the new information. Well. This certainly changed a few things. On one hand, she felt much better knowing that it wasn't a problem with her. She could resign herself to be married to someone attracted to the other sex if she had to. If it meant leaving King's Landing. They would probably be childless and there would be no love, but she'd be away from Joffrey and that was all she could ask for. Now that she knew his predilections, she decided she could live with them.


	17. Chapter 17

Sansa had been sitting in front of her vanity, watching as the young handmaiden brushed her long, copper hair. She tilted her cheek, surveying the fading bruise that had marred her face after the riots in Flea Bottom. She gently brushed her fingertips over the mark, feeling smooth skin. There would be no scar-as the queen regent predicted. Though now it wouldn't matter much if she still had a pretty face. Joffrey had a beautiful new queen and Sansa's husband-to-be couldn't care less what she looked like. Sansa felt like her stomach was full of rocks at the thought. For as long as she could remember everyone had always commented on her looks. That her beauty was the only true contribution she would bring to a marriage. That and her name. Now her family was in open rebellion with the crown lacking any prestige and her future husband preferred men. Sansa sighed and waved off her handmaiden. She was just about to dismiss all her servants, looking forward to some alone time, when a knock came to the door. She pulled her dressing gown closer shut and nodded to the girl. As the door opened, Sansa quickly smoothed her hair, making sure she looked acceptable enough to receive visitors. Satisfied with her appearance, she turned to greet her guest. She couldn't help the smile that came to her lips when she saw her dwarf friend.

"Lord Tyrion" she curstied gently as propriety demanded. Tyrion had always waved off her signs of respect as they had gotten to know each other, but Sansa had been determined to greet him as his status demanded. When he didn't immediately scoff at her actions, she looked up curiously. The look on his face sent a shiver down her spine. She stared in fear, sending a prayer to any God that was listening that he wasn't here to deliver more bad news.

Quickly, she sent away her servants, leaving them alone. As they left in a flurry, Tyrion just stood unmoving, doing everything he could not to meet her eyes. Her fear mounted with each passing second until the door slammed shut behind the last handmaiden. The silence grew more and more tense as she stood, rooted in fear, unable to move. _Please, please..._ her mind spun _Please let it not be mother. Please let it not be Robb or Arya or Jon..._ her thoughts were interrupted by Tyrion taking a large breath before meeting her eyes finally. The pain in his gaze took the wind from her lungs and she swayed on her feet.

"Sansa..." he breathed, so mournfully and laced with compassion.

Sansa's legs finally gave out and she crumpled, landing on the stool behind her. Tears pooled in her eyes and her fingers tightened in the soft silks of her dressing gown. _Gods no! Please don't take more of my family from me! Please let it be anything else!_

Tyrion immediately rushed to her side and took her fingers in his, encouraging her to look at him again. When she did, he had lost all color in his face. "Sansa...Sansa, be calm!" he rubbed her frozen hands in his, glancing around desperately, clearly lamenting sending her handmaidens away. "Be calm, my lady."

"My...m-my family?" she managed to croak.

"They're fine!" he hastened to assure her. "They have not been killed, Sansa. Forgive me" he cursed under his breath as he quickly moved to the table. He poured a small measure of honeyed wine into a cup before returning to her side. "Forgive me for scaring you, my lady. I assure you, your family is alive and well. Last I heard, the Young Wolf was still thoroughly beating us." Sansa struggled to return her heart to a steady pace and accepted the wine. Gulping it down, she willed her mind to stop spinning. Tyrion would never lie to her about something this important. If he said that her family was okay, they must be. She took a deep, shaky breath and tried to smile, feeling foolish for her overreaction. When Tyrion just continued looking shame-faced, the smile faded. She felt her back straighten as she steeled herself for the information he was delivering.

 _Perhaps it is Joffrey. Perhaps there has been some issue with the Tyrell alliance and he wishes to continue our betrothal. Or could it be that he has stripped me of all my titles-he once threatened that in his anger. That would make me useless to them though-they needed me alive in part to keep control of Robb, but mostly for my claim on the North should my brother fail. Whatever it is, it must be bad for Tyrion to react this way._

She secured the walls around her heart before turning to the dwarf in front of her. "What is it, my lord? What has brought you to me?"

"My lady..." he faltered before kneeling before her. She had kept her seat on the stool and they had been of a height, but now she was looking down on his bent head. Curiosity swirled through her now that she had calmed. Now that she knew that whatever painful blow Tyrion was about to drop would only effect her. "You must forgive me for bringing this news to you. You know that I would never distress you purposefully. I just..."

He looked so distraught and in the midst of learning her fate, Sansa couldn't help but pity him. She reached out and gently touched his shoulder, causing him to jump slightly and look up at her. She tried her best to smile encouragingly at him.

"It's okay, Tyrion. What has happened?" she all but whispered.

He sighed again. "My father...he learned about a plan to wed you to Sir Loras Tyrell." he spoke quickly and Sansa felt her breath catch again.

So this was it. She would be beheaded like her father like a traitor.

"I don't know if you knew of the plot, but my father will see it ended." He met her eyes searchingly and Sansa nodded slightly, silently letting him know that she was aware of it. His shoulders dropped and his mouth became a grim line. "I had prayed they had not filled your head with hope only for my family to take it all away from you again. My father believes you to be ignorant of the plot, thank the seven, but I didn't want more dreams of yours being crushed."

Sansa released the breath she was holding. As long as she acted innocently, she would go unscathed. Still...she allowed one small tear for what could have been slip down her cheek before nodding tightly and swallowing the lump in her throat.

"So what is to become of me?" she asked weakly.

He just looked at her, clearly lost for words, and Sansa felt irritation at the situation rise.

"He will marry me off, won't he?" she demanded. "To some Lannister cousin, no doubt. He'll still tie me to your family. I'll never be free of you Lannisters!" Ire flowed through her as she stood abruptly and moved several paces away towards the window. The tears on her cheeks came from anger and frustration now and she rubbed them away, hoping he had not seen them. Tyrion had yet to respond to her and it annoyed her. He had always told her the truth, no matter how brutal it had been. He had never shied away from anything in their friendship and to see him doing it now was unnerving.

"Well?!" she cried. "You obviously know! What are you not telling me?"

Tyrion's head still hung, avoiding her eyes and it was infuriating and altogether worrying. How bad could it be, that he would be acting this way?

"Tyr-"

"You're right." His words cut her off and they lapsed into another tense silence before he slowly got to his feet. "You'll never be free of us. With one act my father has taken escape from you again. Taken everything from you... taken everything from the both of us" The personal disdain dripped from his tone and Sansa felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end as a chill passed through her.

"Who is it, Tyrion?" She asked.

But she knew.


	18. Chapter 18

"Who is it, Tyrion" her clipped voice hung in the air and he forced himself to meet her gaze.

He knew in this moment he would probably lose her. He could already see the walls growing behind those beautiful blue eyes, could see her shutting herself off from him. She had become the ice maiden again, cold and stoic in her resolve. He had never felt smaller than he did right now. He swallowed hard as he pushed himself to his feet and willed himself to approach her. As he took a step he tried not be hurt by her moving that much further from him. She had never fled from him, but he knew it would only get worse. He halted his advance, hoping to put her at ease. He had wanted to tell her as a friend, but knew that that was hopeless now.

"Sansa, I..." he had never been speechless before and cursed that in this moment he was struggling. "I want you to know that I will still do everything I can to protect you. I will never allow anyone to hurt you. I will never allow any harm to come to you. Even from me..." he trailed off as he watched her eyes fill with tears again. "No...no Sansa...Please believe me, I had nothing to do with this. It wasn't my idea..." But she was shaking her head emphatically and held up a hand to stop him.

"Wasn't your idea?" he flinched at the poison in her tone. "Wasn't your idea to keep me imprisoned here with no hope for escape? Wasn't your idea to take my claim for yourself? Is this the only reason you were kind to me? To trick me into letting my guard down so that you could take advantage of me? I tr-...I trusted-" Her voice was bordering on hysterical before she turned away and took a deep breath, calming herself.

"Sansa, I never wanted-"

"Stop." she cut him off without looking back at him. "I would like to be alone, my lord. If you would please excuse me." She held her arm towards the door with icy courtesy and Tyrion just nodded, defeated. He would give her all the time she needed to process this. It was the least he could do.

"Of course, my lady." he muttered as he left her. As soon as he was passed the threshold he turned, hoping to give her one last assurance, but the door was softly closed in his face. He stood there silently for a moment, listening intently, wondering if she would burst into tears the second he was gone. He heard no signs of distress though and forced his stunted little legs to keep moving. He turned the corner and came upon Pod standing awkwardly and Bronn leaning up against the wall casually, looking after some maids down the corridor. The girls were giggling as they passed the two and Bronn grinned widely at them as Pod blushed to his hairline. Tyrion watched the exchange with scorn, wishing he was a tall, strong warrior or at least a healthy man who would be less of a terrible bridegroom.

"Guessin' it didn't go so well?" Bronn chuckled at the look on Tyrion's face.

"Do shut up" Tyrion growled. "Come. I'm in need of a strong drink. Pod, fetch some flagons of Dornish red from the kitchens and meet us in my chamber. Fetch a few of them." His squire ran off and he strolled with Bronn back to his solar.

Shortly after, Tyrion was pouring a full goblet for himself and his companion.

"She's a child." He muttered into his glass, though he knew it wasn't truly her age that he objected to so thoroughly.

"She's taller than you." Bronn chuckled.

"A tall child."

"What's the youngest you've ever had?" the sellsword questioned knowingly and Tyrion rolled his eyes.

"Not that young..." He tried to erase her long, pale throat from his mind.

"How much older?"

Tyrion shot him a knowing look before taking a deep gulp from his glass. No, it wasn't her age that was necessarily so objectionable. It was the look in her eye when she realized her fate. It was the guarded and hateful expression on her face when she looked at the man she would be tied to the rest of her life. It was the thought of having a wife that hated him. He had reconciled himself to having a wife who would be disgusted by him. He never hoped for more with this body he was born with. But to have a wife who truly hated him as she must now...

"You're a lord, she's a lady, and a beauty at that. And haven't you been going on for weeks about how great she is? I don't see the problem."

"The problem is she trusted me. This young girl who's been beaten down by all who she's come into contact with had found the ability to trust me, and I've just ruined it."

But Bronn just shrugged. "She's a lady. She knows what's expected of her. It's not like she was going to marry for love, what with her being a hostage and an heiress. At least you'll keep her away from that shit king of ours. Can't say that for just anyone. All you have to do is get a son in the Stark girl. He'll be lord of Winterfell one day; you can rule the North in his name. You'll have a beautiful wife and a whole kingdom of your own."

"A beautiful wife who despises me and a whole kingdom to join her." He didn't hold out hope that any northman would look kindly on the demon imp raping Ned Stark's daughter in his bed every night in Winterfell. His father would make sure he was put there, but he couldn't force loyalty. That would never happen.

"You waste time trying to get people to love you, you'll end up the most popular dead man in town." the sellsword drawled as he drained his glass.

Tyrion followed suite and refilled both goblets while Bronn watched him with a smirk. As he settled back into the chair, he let himself get lost in his thoughts.

Just as he was taking a sip, Bronn spoke again. "You want to fuck that Stark girl. You just don't want to admit it." Tyrion inhaled suddenly at the thought, choking on the wine he had been drinking.

As he sputtered, he shot a glare at the sellsword who was chuckling at the display. "I don't pay you to put evil notions in my head. The ones already there don't need company." He grumbled.

He couldn't deny that he had thought about Sansa that way. He had tried not to, but there were moments when she had brushed her hair back over her ear that her lemony, yet woody smell had wafted towards him and he had thought about that scent adorning his sheets. When she had laughed so hard that she had doubled over that he had thought about what other noises she could make and how he could make her writhe. When her blue eyes had sparkled after turning a clever joke and how he had wanted to see her with them gazing up at him. He had been furious at himself for thinking those things and now that fury was doubled, knowing that his father expected him to follow through with them. Especially since it would not be the Sansa he had come to know and admire that would be in his bed. It would be a woman of ice scorn. A woman who would live her life with him behind a mask. A woman who hated him.

But Bronn just laughed good naturedly. "You pay me to kill people who bother you. Evil notions come free."

 **A/N: Hope you guys enjoy! Happy Holidays and New Year!**


	19. Chapter 19

Sansa stood rooted in her spot by the window for hours after Tyrion had left her. Unmoving, she had watched as the sky grew pink as the sun set over the horizon and then faded into a lovely lilac and then a deep blue as the last light of day disappeared. She had vaguely recognized a knock on the door about an hour ago as a handmaiden had probably tried to deliver her dinner. Whoever it had been had waited a short amount of time before trying the door, finding it locked, and then leaving her be.

With no one to light the candles, Sansa stood in darkness, trying her best to process what had just occurred. She was a fool. A stupid little girl with foolish dreams who never learns. She had thought... for just a moment she had thought that someone had looked beyond her pretty face and had seen something of worth. Seen her as more than just a pawn in this game of thrones. Her fists tightened enough for her neatly trimmed nails to cut into her palms as she shook slightly, finally turning away from the window and taking a seat at her vanity. No, Tyrion had just been more clever than most. Working to trick her into letting her guard down enough to gain her trust. She should have been able to see that he was only interested in taking both her maidenhead and her claim. She should have known that nothing good could come from associating with a Lannister-they were all conniving and cruel. Tears bubbled up in her eyes as she remembered how stupid she must have looked-how naive. She cursed herself for being such a fool. She had allowed him in and had told him so many things about her family and about her old life and she would bet everything she owned that he was sitting with the queen and the hand every night, laughing at her. He had conspired with Lord Tywin to steal the north from her brother.

Sansa looked up and met her own eyes in the mirror and saw fire raging behind the blue. She rubbed away the tears on her cheeks and picked up a brush, running in through her tangled hair. She rose from her seat, moving throughout the room lighting candles. As her chamber filled with a warm glow, she moved to the door and cracked it open. As she suspected, her handmaiden had left a tray of food and she picked it up and carried it to the table. She picked lightly at the cold roasted chicken and took a few sips of the honeyed wine that had been abandoned earlier. When she moved back to the mirror and surveyed herself, she saw a true lady, polished and refined. But as she looked into her own eyes she could still see the blaze of fury and determination, and she was hell bent on never losing that again.

...

She didn't remember falling asleep, but the next morning a rough knock on her door shocked her awake. Groggily, she stood from the bed and made her way to her door, cracking it slightly, hoping it was not anyone blonde. She rolled her eyes when she saw it was Chella. She tried to close the door in the tribewomans face, but an arm much stronger than hers forced it open. Sansa glared at the woman, but was met with only a pitying glance.

"I'd like to be alone." she growled, hoping to send Tyrion's minion away. Chella was only a tool used to gain trust and Sansa was done accepting it. When Chella didn't move, Sansa decided to try something a little less ladylike. "Go away!" and she tried again to slam the door.

A soft chuckle and a hard push denied Sansa her privacy as the woman made her way into the chamber, brushing past her charge with ease. Although a small part of Sansa panicked at this, she couldn't fight the knowledge that the woman would not harm her. Still, to have her desires so casually dismissed annoyed her.

Once Chella was inside, there was no use fighting her presence, so Sansa closed the door and turned to the woman with a scowl. Chella was making herself at home, taking a swig from the flagon of ale on her hip and leaning up against the bed post.

"I heard about your new betrothal, little one. May I be the first to congratulate you." Chella gave her a toothy grin and Sansa felt outrage surge in her.

"Congratulate me?" She snarled. "Congratulate me on being conned into becoming a Lannister toy? For forever tying myself to that family of liars and murderers?" Unfortunately, this was the first person she was coming into contact with after learning of her betrayal and combined with the false kinship she felt with the woman, all of her anger came flooding out. "Let me guess," she sneered, "You've been reporting any and all actions of mine to your master since the moment you were put with me...You're nothing but a Lannister dog!" She spat hatefully. "Get out of my rooms, you are dismissed! I don't want to see you again!" She threw open the door again and stood before it, panting from her outburst. But Chella just stared at her in wonder. She had never seen her pretty little charge act in anyway that wasn't perfectly ladylike and to see such a hurricane of emotion was surely out of the ordinary.

"Sansa-" Chella started gently, but was cut off.

"Lady Stark." Sansa interrupted straightening her back and standing tall, even if she only came up the Chella's shoulders. "You will address me by my proper title!" she demanded heatedly. Allowing the woman to ignore her titles had given in to the informality of their friendship and Sansa had to put an end to it.

Chella only bit back a grin before making a big show of bowing mockingly. "Lady Stark," she sneered slightly before looking at Sansa seriously. "I'll go alright, but I'll not go far. You can send me away from you as is your right, but my orders still stand. You're in the middle of a lions den, little one, and I won't be leaving you alone to deal with them. That sniveling boy king of yours still has it out for you and I'll be damned if you go traipsing around the keep unprotected." Chella passed Sansa and through the open door before turning around for one last thought.

"Just keep in mind, little lady: there's only been one lion who has had your back through it all. Only one has protected you." Sansa scowled at her before starting to close the door. She barely caught the last thing Chella said. "And keep in mind that he's surrounded by enemies too."


	20. Chapter 20

Three lonely days had passed before someone came to Sansa's door. She had refused any company from her handmaidens, sending them away as soon as they were done with their duties. And true to her word, Chella kept a distance-though the woman was never far from her door, fully armed. So when Queen Cersei swept into her room unannounced, it was almost welcome. Almost.

The golden queen was radiant in purple and gold silks with her blonde curls elaborately styled over her shoulders. She held an unconvincing smile of her face, but her eyes gleamed as Sansa rose to curtsy.

"Little dove," she purred."It's come to my attention you are to be a married woman! I've brought my best seamstresses to see that you are dressed befitting a Lannister bride." She waved her arm and a shorter, wide woman stepped forward and took Sansa's hand.

As the woman measured Sansa's growing body, Cersei reclined on the chaise, watching over the rim of a seemingly never empty goblet. Her narrow, catlike green eyes surveyed Sansa and made her uncomfortable, but she did not squirm under the seamstress' hands. When the woman was finished, Cersei dismissed her with a wave of her hand, leaving the two women alone.

"As soon as the gowns are finished, the wedding will take place." the queen announced, causing Sansa to flinch. It would be within the week then probably. "Come, sit with me" Cersei patted the space next to her and Sansa stepped away from the mirror.

"Tell me, little dove. As your mother is not here to advise you, you must have questions about your wedding night?"

The mention of her mother made Sansa's throat go dry, but she forced herself to swallow and smile at the queen as if Cersei were doing her some huge favor. The last thing she wanted to do was talk to the queen about the night she would share with her brother, but she had to play along.

"I believe I know what is expected of me, your grace..." she said vaguely, but Cersei's insistent glare told her it was not enough. "We will consummate the marriage." was her weak addition. To be honest, Sansa wasn't very sure what would happen. Septa Mordane had been impossibly vague in her descriptions, only telling her that she should please her future husband-that her duty was to obey and conceive a son as quickly as possible.

Cersei's drunken giggle made Sansa blush at her own naivety. "Oh Sansa, you will be in for a rough night. My brother will fuck his way through you and use your body in any way he wishes. He's a perverted little imp, as it's known throughout the seven kingdoms. You ought just lie there and let him get on with his business. He's had plenty of experience with all the whores he's had, he'll know how to get you pregnant quickly"

The queen's tone was almost casual, as if they were discussing the weather, but her words made Sansa's blood run cold. She hadn't thought of Tyrion's history with...women. Of course she was aware of his reputation but while they were friends it had not bothered her. Now that she was to be his wife...

Cersei was eyeing her with cruel curiosity and when Sansa met her eyes, she smiled and patted her shoulder. "Fear not, little dove. Once you have a few sons I'm sure he will find his comfort in the brothels." then her voice dropped to a syrupy whisper, "And don't worry, sweetling. Joffrey will not allow him to abuse you in any way that will diminish your beauty. You'll still be an ornament at court and once you drop your traitorous family name, you will be one of us. A Lannister at last. Doesn't that make you happy?"

Sansa was breathless at her bleak future but forced herself to nod at the queen's words. When Cersei dug her nails into her shoulder, she met her gaze and smiled weakly. "Yes, your grace. It's all I ever wanted."

"Here I thought you were to be my daughter. Who would have ever thought instead you'd be a sister!" Cersei purred as she enveloped Sansa into her arms. Caught in her cold grip, Sansa felt lonelier than she ever had.

"Now, let's discuss colors. Red and gold, of course, but with this hair-" Cersei pulled on a lock disdainfully "-more gold than crimson. I'll have several made for you. All in Lannister colors. No more of these drab, dark gowns. You're a proper lady now and I won't have you embarrassing the Lannister name." Cersei stood and brushed the creases from her gown. "You will have more expectations of you now as well. You cannot surround yourself with monsters like that thing outside, or with those Tyrell bitches." Clearly the wine was getting to her. "You shall sit with me an hour a day so that I can teach you what it is to be a Lannister lady."

"Thank you, your grace" Sansa curtsied politely, eager to have her gone.

Cersei nodded approvingly and left in a swirl of silk.

Sansa sank back down onto the chaise as her conversation with the queen repeated in her mind. She pressed her thighs together tightly at the thought that within a week she'd have to spread them for someone who had betrayed her. Cersei's description of her wedding night struck true fear in her heart though. She would be nervous enough with a stranger, she could only imagine how it would be with someone who had hurt her so deeply. Biting her lip, she forced herself to be calm. She would survive as she always did-with icy endurance.


	21. Chapter 21

Sansa took Cersei's orders to heart and made a point to spend more time about the keep instead of locked away. It became almost a game to her, avoiding all those she didn't want to speak to, but making sure she was seen. She didn't know what punishment she would receive if word spread that she was still hiding in her rooms. Chella continued to shadow her silently and Sansa almost missed the older woman's company. She was determined to keep her distance though and not allow her to get close again.

Today she was reading in the gardens. It was a beautiful day and the roses around her masked the smell of the city. She had to wear a slightly thicker gown than normal, as winter was starting to cool the air. It was still warm, though and in the sun she was starting to regret her choice. She set down her book of dragons and sighed. It had been Tyrion who had encouraged her to visit the often empty library of the keep and take some books and now reading them made her think of him. He had tried to reach out to her a few times since that day last week, but she had refused all his advances. The first letter she had thrown into the fire unread. The second she had opened long enough to read the first few lines, then it had joined the first. She didn't want to read any of his assurances that his father was the one demanding the union and that he had no part in the planning. Of course he had known. Why else would he have worked so hard to get gain her trust? She was sure she must have shown him in some way that there was a chance for her to marry Loras, and he had immediately pounced on it. She cursed the day she ever thought to trust that...that IMP.

"Lady Sansa!" a gentle voice broke her out of her thoughts and she looked up to see the beautiful soon-to-be queen.

"Lady Margaery" Sansa stood with a smile and curtsied. If Sansa was cold, Margaery must have been freezing. Her bright blue gown with gold brocade left little to the imagination, with cutouts exposing her tanned skin. But Margaery looked as if the weather did not bother her in the slightest.

"Oh enough of that!" the older girl waved away Sansa's respects, smiling at her. "I'm not queen yet! And even when I am, we will be family if I am to hear correctly..." The girls words were cryptic, but when Sansa searched her face for any hidden meaning, she found none. Margaery held out her arm and led her through the gardens. "Come walk with me."

"How are you feeling, Sansa? Are you okay?"

Sansa forced herself not to cry at the girls kindness and only nodded tightly. Margaery frowned at her, pity obvious in her eyes. They walked in silence for just a moment before she spoke again.

"I remember the first time I saw you in the throne room. I'd never seen anyone who looked so unhappy..." Sansa remembered that day. Remembered how thrilled she had been at the thought that she might be free and how quickly those hopes were dashed. She would gladly take Sir Loras now if she could-despite all she had learned.

She'd rather have a husband who was not interested instead of someone who had tricked her like Tyrion had. "I want very much for you to be happy, Sansa, and so does my grandmother. You would have been happy at Highgarden. But women in our position must make the best of our circumstances." Margaery plucked a rose from a nearby bush and offered it to Sansa.

Gazing at the rose and all it would have symbolized had Sansa not been so foolish, she found herself speaking freely. "How am I to make the best of my circumstances? I am to marry him!"

"Has Lord Tyrion mistreated you? I thought you and he got along quite well." Here she reached out and touched Sansa's shoulder. "Has he been...inappropriate with you?" her eyes were wide and searching, but Sansa shook her head.

"Nothing like that..." and Margaery sighed in relief and nodded.

"So...?"

"He's a Lannister" Sansa spat.

"Far from the worst Lannister, wouldn't you say?" Margaery asked with a knowing smile. Sansa bit her lip. Of course Joffrey was worse, but she still felt hurt. Ever since the moment on the steps of Baelor when Joffrey had taken her father's head, she had known what he was. Hells, it was even before then that she had seen his true colors. Her mind fled to the moment by the Trident when he had threatened Sansa's little sister and her friend. She had known the whole time what a monster Joffrey truly was, even if she had refused to see it at first. But with Tyrion it was different. She had truly thought he was not as cruel or manipulative as the rest of his family. Which made his betrayal that much worse.

Still. Poor Margaery would suffer much more than she. "I'm sorry, here I am complaining to YOU..."

But Margaery just smiled wistfully and stared ahead. "My son will be the king." as if that would make up for all the pain she would soon see. "Sons learn from there mothers and I plan to teach mine a great deal. And your son...if I'm not mistaken, should your brother fall, your son will be the lord of Casterly Rock and Winterfell..."

Although the thought of ruling the north through her son was appealing, her mind ground to a halt at the mention of what she would have to do in order to conceive one. Not that the thought of bedding Tyrion was revolting. She would be lying if she didn't find the man somewhat attractive. She remembered a rather embarrassing dream she had a while ago that had her waking up flushed. But to be put in such a vulnerable position with someone who had betrayed her... That coupled with her insecurities about her experience versus his had her dreading the wedding night.

Margaery was still looking at her insistently and Sansa blushed. "My son...that means we'll have to..."

The girl smiled knowingly. "If it's the pain you're worried about...?" she whispered gently, offering her advice. Sansa would much rather talk to Margaery about this than Cersei.

"I'm not afraid of the pain. Not after what Joffrey's done to me."

"What is it then? That he's a dwarf?" Sansa bristled slightly at that, she didn't care what he looked like. She cared about what he had done to her.

"No...not that. I just..." Margaery waited patiently while Sansa wracked her brain for the right words. She doubted Margaery could have anything to say to make her feel better about how angry she was, but maybe she could help with the other problem. "He has a...reputation" she tried, causing Margaery to laugh.

"Well yes...yes he does." she giggled, causing Sansa to blush again. What would people think of her when Tyrion went back to the brothels to get the service she had no idea how to give him. But Margaery's wide smile confused her.

"And that's...that's a good thing?"

"Some women like tall men," Margaery started, "Some like short men. Some like hairy men, some like bald men. Gentle men, rough men, ugly men, pretty men… Pretty girls!" She winked at Sansa. "Most women don't know what they like until they've tried. And, sadly, so many of us get to try so little before we're old and grey…Lord Tyrion may surprise you. We're very complicated, you know. Pleasing us takes practice. I believe you will find quite a bit of happiness with him." She had such a naughty twinkle in her eye that Sansa couldn't help but smile.

Sansa bit her lip. "But what about him...I don't have any experience. How can I know he will not be disappointed with me?" Despite all of her anger, her pride as a woman had her determined not to fail at this.

But Margaery just smiled at her again and squeezed her hand. "Oh don't worry about that, Lady Sansa. I've seen the way he looks at you. He won't be disappointed."


	22. Chapter 22

The gown was beautiful, there was no denying it. The cloth of gold reflected the light, giving her an angelic glow and it was cut to show off her body. As Sansa stood in front of the mirror, surrounded by an army of handmaiden's and an ever-watching lioness, she looked like a woman grown. Although the gown was lovely, Sansa wished she could throw it in the fire. She would have happily watched the fine silk go up in flames. But as always, she had to smile and play the part of the nervous, but excited bride. She had hoped to wear her hair around her shoulders, as a northern maid should on her wedding day, but Cersei was quick to veto her decision. So her hair was brushed until it shined brightly and then pulled and pinned until it was up in an elaborate, southron style. Looking at her reflection, she didn't see anything of her home. She was surrounded by strangers, dressed in red and gold silks, hair up in a birds nest, being given away to a liar without any family or comforts of the north.

As the handmaiden's finished, Cersei stood and circled her apprasingly. Not for the first time, Sansa likened the queen to the lioness she claimed to be, stalking her prey, looking for weaknesses. She was also swathed in Lannister colors, though her gown was mostly crimson. It was almost as fine as Sansa's own, as if the queen were trying to compete with the bride on her wedding day. With a dissatisfied look, Cersei nodded.

"You'll do, I guess" she sneered before calling for her guards to escort them to the sept. "Now, little dove, you are familiar with the ceremony? You know the words? Not that it would matter. Regardless to your actions, you WILL be married today. But my father will not be happy if you humiliate us." Cersei squeezed Sansa's arm to the point of pain and she winced.

"I know the words, your grace" she muttered and Cersei smiled smugly.

"There's a good little girl. If you stay obedient and listen to me, I might be able to make you into a true lady of Lannister. If my idiot brother doesn't ruin you, that is"

...

When they arrived in the sept, the queen left Sansa at the door, going to stand with her father in the front. Sansa took this moment alone to gather her thoughts, trying to focus on the words she was supposed to say. Such serious and binding words...

Suddenly a slow clap came from behind her and she whirled around, sinking to a curtsy when she saw the king. Joffrey was looking at her hungrily.

"My lady, Sansa" he smirked at her. "What a vision you are."

"I thank you, your grace. Your mother, the queen, was kind enough to help me get ready for today."

"Yes, I shall have to thank her. You look quite lovely draped in Lannister colors. I'll have to have some new gowns made for you. I don't think this one will last the evening." He reached out his hand and touched the color of her dress before running his hands over the soft skin of her neck. Suddenly his fingers wrapped around her throat, though he didn't squeeze-just held her still. Sansa's heart beat wildly in fear, though she knew with the whole court not a few feet away, he would not truly hurt her.

"I'm looking forward to the bedding ceremony, my lady." His eyes climbed down her body, hesitating at the plunging neckline. "And to the moment when my uncle brings you to me..." Sansa met his eyes and he chuckled at the panic in them. "Yes, Sansa. You know that as the king, I can have any woman I want, married or no. Besides, I'm sure you'll be begging for a real man after my imp uncle disappoints you. Now come," he took her arm, "Let me escort you to your new husband."

Sansa was led down the aisle white as a sheet, her face bloodless and her eyes wide with fear. Even Margaery's encouraging smile as they passed her did little to ease her nerves, though their conversation the other day had calmed her insecurities. Finally she looked up at Tyrion and was taken aback by the look on his face. Tyrion's brow was furrowed in rage and his eyes were glaring daggers at Joffrey. Sansa chanced a look over her shoulder and saw that Tyrion had a great view of where Joffrey had threatened her. He looked positively murderous as they climbed the steps. Joffrey was obviously pleased to both terrorize her and anger his uncle in one fell swoop and he grinned wickedly at Tyrion before bending over and taking the step stool that had been sitting there to assist him. Tyrion and Sansa both looked in shock at this action before meeting eyes for the first time since they had talked. As Joffrey walked back down to the audience while snickering, Sansa felt embarrassment and anger bubble up in her. How dare he shame Tyrion that way? When the time came for the groom to cloak the bride, Sansa did not hesitate to sink to her knees and assist him with the clasp. As she turned around, clothed in a long red cape embroidered with a roaring lion, she saw relief and gratitude in Tyrion's eyes. She narrowed her gaze at him. Just because she was a decent person did not mean that she trusted him.

When the septon called for a kiss to seal their union, Sansa closed her eyes and thought about the Godswood in Winterfell. Thought about swimming there with her siblings in the warm summer days and laying out on the cool rocks to dry. It almost worked, taking her mind away from the sept until Tyrion's lips brushed against hers. The moment was half a heartbeat, but Sansa registered how warm his lips were and how gently he kissed her. Before she knew it, he had pulled away and Sansa almost lamented that it had not been longer. She opened her eyes to see his flushed face looking away from her. She didn't have time to say anything to him though as the crowd of well wishers rushed forward to congratulate the new couple.

Cersei squeezed her arm tightly as if giving sisterly comfort, but the cold look in her eyes took any warmth from the gesture. Joffrey was clearly pouting, unhappy that his cruelty went unnoticed, but Lord Tywin glared at him, keeping him from voicing his complaints. Tywin looked down on Sansa, his cold, apprasing eyes making Sansa shiver. "Congratulations, my lady." He growled smoothly. "I look forward to hearing of an heir." With that the Lannisters turned as one and led the way to the grand hall for the wedding feast.

Sansa looked down at her little husband and the two met eyes. He was looking up at her hopefully, but she just turned and took Margaery's arm, following the rest of the procession.


	23. Chapter 23

There wasn't enough wine in the world to make this wedding feast a happy one, but that didn't stop Tyrion from trying. The evening wouldn't be half as terrible if Sansa would at least look at him, let alone speak to him. But Sansa sat by his side dutifully and silently, barely picking at her food. He had to fix this, he knew that, but he couldn't do it right now. She had made it clear that she did not believe him and didn't want to hear any explanations. He would be resilient though and wait until the time was right. And until she did listen to him, he would be patient and protect her. It was the least he could do.

He had originally thought to offer a different Lannister cousin in his place. Lancel was young and handsome and newly knighted, maybe Sansa would enjoy married life to him more. He was sure his father thought them all interchangeable and that he would not object to someone more suited for her. Perhaps it was his own selfish desires that kept him from making the offer, but he told himself it was just so he could help her. Lancel would probably allow his king to do whatever he liked to his helpless bride, thinking that it would advance his own interests. That thought had kept his mouth shut and allowed his father to plan this farce of a wedding.

When he had first seen her in the Sept, he had been speechless. She had looked glorious, framed in the soft light coming from the open doors behind her, dressed in gold like the queen she should be. The only thing he would have changed would be her hair. Her long copper locks had been tied up like the other silly women at court. She should have it thrown over her shoulders, dressed in an icy grey like the Stark bride she was. But Cersei had made her look like a miniature, copper copy of herself, and although she was stunning, Tyrion could tell that she was uncomfortable. Her expression was disdainful, but resolute. Then the king had approached her. Tyrion had watched powerless on the steps of the Sept as Joffrey had put his hands on her- wrapping his fingers around her throat. He was furious at the thought that he had to inspect his wife's body at the alter for bruises. Luckily there were none, but her face had been pale with fear and ire had engulfed him. He swore right then that he would never allow Joffrey to touch her again. He would do everything in his power to keep him from her.

The rest of the ceremony had gone on without a hitch, despite Joffrey's best efforts. Sansa had been kind enough to smooth over what would have been an embarrassing moment with the cloaks. Other than that, the vows he spoke flowed past his lips with ease. He stressed the parts where he vowed to protect and cherish her, but Sansa seemed to go through the whole ceremony in a daze. It was only when he had to kiss her did his own nerves rear their head. He wanted to place a hand on her delicate cheek and cradle her face as he touched her, but he forced himself to be satisfied with a modest peck.

Even after everything, his beautiful wife ignored him as they had made their way into the great hall for their feast. She did have a red mark on her neck and for that, Tyrion took a large gulp of his drink. He glared out at the boy king now as he prattled on to Margaery Tyrell. The Rose of Highgarden had done a beautiful job of drawing Joffrey in, praising him and seducing him with her clever words and plunging necklines. Hopefully she could keep him occupied tonight so he'd leave Sansa alone. His eyes slid to his beloved bride who finally made eye contact with him. He tried to smile at her, but she turned her face away quickly.

"Will you pardon me, my lord." It was more of a statement and she was rising before he answered. Still, he responded as kindly as he could.

"Of course, Sansa." She met his eyes at the familiarity and for a moment he thought she would reprimand him, but she just turned away quickly and headed towards the balcony. Probably looking for a little peace and quiet. He let her go, but gave a subtle nod towards Pod to follow her and make sure she was alright. Unfortunately his father took the opportunity to take Sansa's empty chair.

"You seem rather drunk." He declared.

"Rather less than I planned to be." Tyrion declared. There was no way his father was going to take away the only thing getting him through this evening. "Isn't it a man's duty to be drunk at his own wedding?"

"This isn't about your wedding." Tywin growled shortly, as if Tyrion was an idiot. "Renly Baratheon had a wedding. Your wife needs a child, a Lannister child, as soon as possible." Gods, this again. He was not in the mood for another lecture.

"And?"

Tywin glowered at him. "If you're going to give her one, you need to perform."

"What did you once call me? 'A drunken little lust-fulled beast.'?"

"More than once..."

"Well there you have it!" Tyrion declared sarcastically. "Nothing to worry about. Drinking and lust. No man can match me in these things. I am the god of tits and wine! I shall build a shrine to myself at the next brothel I visit." He went to take another sip, but Tywin snatched the cup out of his hand. Wiping the spilled wine from his tunic he glared up at his father.

"You can drink. You can joke. You can engage in juvenile attempts to make your father uncomfortable. But you will do your duty."

Tyrion was about to give his father a scathing retort, when over his shoulder he met Pod's eyes. His squire was frantically trying to get his attention without causing too much of a scene and he could only want one thing. Tyrion felt instantly sober and he stood abruptly, almost knocking over his chair in the process. He ignored Tywin's efforts to keep him and plowed his way over the Pod. It seemed as if the entire room fell quiet as his squire confirmed his fears. "Th-the king!" he panted and pointed out to the balcony. Tyrion rushed up the stairs and came upon his bride and his shit nephew at what he hoped was the tail end of their conversation.

"...It doesn't really matter which Lannister puts the baby in you. Maybe I'll pay you a visit tonight after my uncle passes out." He watched as Joffrey slid his hands over his wife's arms and saw red. "How'd you like that? You wouldn't?" He could see Sansa's face from where he was standing and was almost happy to see anger there instead of fear. "That's all right... Ser Meryn will hold you down."

That was just about enough. "My Lady?" He called out as loudly as he could, surprising the both of them. Sansa looked at him with equal parts of relief and guilt and Joffrey was clearly angry.

"Ah, uncle! Just in time! I believe it's time for the bedding!" He grabbed Sansa's arm roughly and tugged her towards the steps leading back into the hall.

"There will be no bedding!" Tyrion declared heatedly while following them, just about ready to geld the boy. But Joffrey just laughed maniacally.

"Oh uncle, where's your respect for tradition?!" Joffrey dragged the now struggling Sansa towards the steps, but was halted by Lord Tywin who had followed his errant son.

Tywin quickly took in the expressions on their faces before his eyes narrowed on Joffrey.

"I believe we can dispense with the bedding, Your Grace." Joffrey opened his mouth to retort, but Tywin stepped forward and offered his arm to Sansa and the king was forced to relinquish his hold on her.

Tyrion was fuming in anger, but was grateful to see Sansa moving away from the stewing Joffrey. His father led her over to him and bowed shortly to the lady before turning to him. "Consumate the marriage tonight. I know you don't want this, but find a way to get over it and do your duty." he growled low enough for her not to hear. He then placed a strong hand on the kings shoulder, forcing him back into the hall to rejoin the festivities, leaving the couple alone.

 **A/N: Wow that was a quick couple of chapters! Lots of creative juices flowing, so hopefully it made up for my absence before!**

 **They are officially married, but there's still the wedding night to be dreaded, so we'll see how it plays out. I'll probably go dark until after the New Year (but who knows, we'll see how my mind works), so I wish all my readers a happy 2017! Please read and review as it always fuels my inspiration.**


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: Long chapter!**

"Consummate this marriage..." Sansa visibly flinched at the words she wasn't meant to hear. Luckily, no one was paying attention to her and the crack in her veneer. To be honest, she hadn't done a very good job of acting the perfect, cold ice maiden during this feast. She had been unable to mask her annoyance at Tyrion's drinking and she knew when Joffrey was speaking to her moments ago, she had failed at trying to not let his words effect her. She couldn't help it though. She had been furious that Joffrey dared tell her that he was going to come to her tonight. Tyrion may have lied to her about his intentions and he may have taken advantage of her naivety, but he had protected her with relative consistency. She knew her biggest threat from Joffrey came from him finding her alone. Tyrion would never let Joffrey abuse her or rape her in his presence.

And then, as if her thoughts had conjured him, there was her little lord husband again, chasing away the lion cub. She had been relieved when she saw him, grateful that even when she had purposely abandoned him, he still came to her rescue. Now that Tywin was present, she knew she was safe. Still, she bit her lip and tried to put her walls up again. Tyrion may protect her from Joffrey, but that didn't mean she could trust him. He lied to her and manipulated her for months just so he could steal her claim. The perverted imp was probably salivating at his father's command. She sighed and steeled herself for what was to come.

"...I know you don't want this, but find a way to get over it and do your duty."

What?

Sansa stood shock still as Tywin led Joffrey away and they were left alone.

What did he just say? I must have not heard it correctly... she thought as Tyrion turned to her apologetically. She didn't even flinch when he took her hand gently.

"Are you alright, my lady?" he asked and she nodded stiffly, still trying to process Tywin's words. Had she truly heard him right? "I promise you Sansa, Joffrey will not hurt you. Not this night, or any night as long as I live. And should it come to it, I swear to you with my dying breath I will promise all the gold in Casterly Rock to anyone who can keep you safe after I'm gone." Tyrion swore, but Sansa just stared at him.

When it became clear she was not going to respond, Tyrion tugged her hand ever so slightly, pulling her away from the feast and towards their new chambers. Sansa walked slowly and gracelessly, her mind spinning. When they finally reached their rooms, they entered. Sansa walked straight to the table and poured herself a full glass of the Arbor Gold that had been left for the newlyweds. She gulped greedily, wishing she had partaken just a little at the feast. Then perhaps this wouldn't be so daunting.

...I know you don't want this, but find a way to get over it and do your duty...

Tywin had spoken angrily and she remembered the look on Tyrion's face at his words. They had clearly argued about this. Could it be that Tyrion had been telling the truth? Chella had mentioned that he was also surrounded by enemies. Could she be talking about his family? She assumed it was just Joffrey and maybe Cersei, but could Tyrion count his own father as an enemy? She turned to face the dwarf and was surprised to see him securely bolting the door. When he finished he turned around and jumped slightly at her direct gaze. He looked panicked for a moment, before he spoke quickly.

"I just...I only want to make sure Joffrey doesn't..." he gestured to the door. "I didn't mean to trap you here." He instantly turned to undo the locks but Sansa stopped him.

"No, my lord" her voice came out weakly, so she took a deep breath. "It's fine. You're probably right." Sansa's response stilled his movements, but he still stood awkwardly by the door. She could tell that he didn't know exactly what to do so she took charge, albeit grudgingly. She drained her glass in a few gulps and made her way to the bed. She must have misheard Lord Tywin. The only way she was going to be able to get through this night was if he hurried up and defiled her. Margaery had mentioned that most men sleep after the deed and if that was the case she'd have some hours of peace to cry without being seen. She began untying the sides of her gown. It was an elaborate piece and without a handmaiden it would take a few moments to disrobe. She wanted to do it herself though, take a small piece of control in this horrid situation. She was just removing the jeweled collar when Tyrion spoke sharply behind her.

"For gods sakes, Sansa! Stop it!" She turned and saw a flushed and angry dwarf in front of her and flinched when something flew at her face. Soft cotton hit her though and she caught a heavy robe. She stared at him wide eyed. "Get behind there and you can take that thing off. But get comfortable and then we can talk."

He pointed to some opaque panels that had been set up to insure privacy. Confused by his outburst, but beyond grateful, she obeyed without objection, fleeing behind the makeshift wall. As she pulled off the heavy gown and into the warm, modest nightrobe she heard Tyrion pouring some wine for himself. Hope bubbled up in her and she tested the waters.

"Is that wise, my lord?" She called from behind her oasis. She heard him chuckle slightly-a sound that she had missed dearly.

"Nothing was ever wiser."

She smiled at his response and tugged on the tight braids in her hair. They came undone after some struggle and she ran her fingers through the crimped tresses as she stepped back into the room. Tyrion had dragged a chair opposite the small couch and had set out two glasses of wine. He was taking a deep gulp when he caught sight of her and choked slightly before gesturing her to take a seat across from him. Sansa lowered herself onto the couch and took her glass. They sat in silence for a moment, him just staring at her.

"You wanted to talk?" she prompted him, eager to see what he had to say.

"Yes." he nodded and drained his glass, setting it down with determination and then looking at her fiercely."We do not have to talk anymore than you wish, but there are some things I need to say tonight." She raised her eyebrow and waved her hand for him to continue. He swallowed audibly. "I will not touch you tonight, Sansa. Not tonight, not tomorrow, not ever if you wish. I will not force you to do anything you are not ready for or willing."

Well that wasn't what she was expecting. To be honest, she was sure he would just protest his innocence to her again. Though after what she might have heard, she might be willing to listen to him now. But her walls refused for her to back down.

"I am your wife," she said dryly. "It is your right as my husband to-"

"Oh shut up.' Sansa glared at his interruption. Tyrion was flushed in annoyance. "Remember who you're talking to, Sansa. I know you used to be one of those courtiers parroting out phrases taught to them, but you haven't been that woman with me for weeks! Don't you start with that again. Yell at me, curse me, strike me if you have to, but don't pretend like you want me to ravish you on that bed! Because I won't."

Sansa stared at him as he railed at her and she felt heat rise in her cheeks in anger. "And why not, my lord" she sneered the title and stood, knocking the small table between them and sending both wine glasses flying. Neither of them seemed to notice as Sansa continued. "Ravish away! Take what you've always been after! Fuck me like you wish and put a lion in my belly" she faltered slightly at the curse, but the look on his face was worth it. "Use my sons to usurp my father's home just like you always planned. Murder my brothers and sister until your spawn is the only heir to the north! R-rape me until I am all used up and then move on to your wh-whores!" Her voice was reaching an all new high and she was choking on her ire. Annoyed she realized her face was wet with tears. So much for remaining the stoic, icy, obedient wife. Racked with sobs, she fell back onto the couch and hid her face in her hands. "It's all you ever wanted...all along..." she cried.

She didn't know how long she cried, feeling all her worries and hurt rushing out of her, but after a couple of minutes it started to slow. She glanced up at Tyrion's face and he looked equally pained. He stood and shuffled over to her. At his height, they stood eye to eye as she sat. He gently took her face in his hands and used his thumbs to wipe the tears from her eyes. It was so reminiscent of an action her father did so many times during her childhood that Sansa's heart felt like it was breaking. Tyrion reached over to the table now covered in spilled wine and managed to find an unscathed napkin. He used the cloth to wipe the sweat and tears and snot from her face as his free hand smoothed her hair away from the moisture. Her sobs had quieted to just the occasional sniffle as she allowed him his ministrations. When her face was clean and her breath was caught he pulled her into his arms, wrapping them around her shoulders and pulling her close. Heartbroken and exhausted by her outburst, she felt her body relax against his. It had been so long since anyone had touched her in this way, with such care, and she craved it so intensely.

"No, Sansa." His voice was barely a whisper, but his lips were so close to her ear she made out the words. "No. It was never like that. I had no idea..."

Sansa wanted so much to believe him.

"Then why?" her voice was hoarse from her crying, but she swallowed and pulled away slightly to look him in the eye. "If not for this...why were you kind to me? Why did you work so hard to gain my trust? Why would you do that?"

Tyrion looked pained and his eyes dropped to her hands. "Because you deserve it. I saw you in Winterfell as a pretty little child-one who had been sheltered and loved and doted upon by a happy family. Not having a loving family of my own, it touched my heart to see such bliss. Then when I returned to the keep many months later, that day at Joffrey's tournament...I saw someone completely different. I saw a woman grown, despite your age at the time, who had seen true pain and loss. That pretty child was gone and in her place stood a pained woman on the verge of being torn apart. My heart bled for the loss of the girl. But then after the day in the throne room when he was...When I stopped him." Sansa nodded, remembering like it was yesterday.

"As we left the hall, I asked you what you wanted. First you gave me some practiced response, but when I pushed you, there was a moment when I saw the girl again, hidden behind a well built mask. I was determined to draw her out, see how she mixed with the woman you had become. Over the next few weeks, I got to see her several times in your smile and your laugh. I was so happy to see her-to see that she was not gone forever. I was amazed by you, Sansa. That you had the strength to face all the pain and loss my family has put you through but keeping your gentle heart."

Tyrion had not been able to meet her eyes through his explanation but now he looked at her, seemingly begging her to believe him. And she couldn't help but let his words run through her mind.

"I just...I wanted to be a part of it, I guess. I should have known that my father would manage to fuck it all up." Sansa bit down a smile at the curse. "Forgive me, Sansa. Please. Forgive me for letting this happen. I should have offered Lancel in my place.."

Sansa immediately started shaking her head.

"No," her voice was strained from earlier, but she didn't want him thinking that the peacocking, idiot Lannister weakling was what she preferred. "No, I'm glad you didn't."

She still wasn't happy about being used as a chess piece by the Lannister family, but she was starting to believe that it was not Tyrion's intentions to use her as such. She knew that Tyrion's family was...different... She knew of the animosity between Tyrion and the queen, and it wouldn't take much for her to believe that there was no love lost between he and the hand either. Perhaps he did actually think of her as her own person and not what he could gain from her. Perhaps it was just his family that had connived to steal her claim. Maybe Tyrion had been truthful with her all along...

"If there is someone else you'd prefer...my father would be annoyed, but we could annul this marriage and you could have your pick of the Lannister cousins. I can make sure that my father lets you spend some time with each of them. I can help you find one that's not terrible-" he rambled.

"No" Sansa spoke louder and put her hand on his arm. "That will not be necessary, my lord. I think the gods have already given me the best one there is. If I am destined to be a Lannister wife, I'd much rather be yours."


	25. Chapter 25

After the rough conversation, they had stood in unison. Tyrion had moved to wipe the spilled wine off the table and refill the glasses and Sansa to splash cold water on her face and run a comb through her hair. Once back in order, they returned to the couch together. They sat up late into the night, drinking and talking just like they had before this whole mess. Sansa told him about her budding friendship with Margaery, and Tyrion told her of the engagement between Cersei and Loras. Sansa had laughed out loud at the idea of the icy queen with the awkward knight of flowers. It was a ridiculous match. It had also lent credence to Tyrion's version of what happened. She knew Cersei would never have agreed to such a match if it hadn't been for their father's forceful hand.

However, as the night went on, the bed on the other side of the room seemed to grow, acting as an ever looming threat. Sansa yawned tiredly, and Tyrion followed suit. A rush of apprehension flowed through her and she couldn't help her eyes from darting towards the bed quickly. Tyrion caught the motion and shook his head slightly. "I promised you I wouldn't touch you tonight, and I meant it. I don't care what my father says."

Sansa sighed with relief, but was still concerned. It wasn't that she was so adverse from being with Tyrion, it was that she was terrified of the deed itself. And to be honest, after just putting faith in him again, she didn't want to be too intimate with him right away. She had decided to resign herself to the facts. She was married. To Tyrion. Eventually they would have to consummate their relationship. But if he was willing to give her time to get to know him as a partner, then she was more than happy to take that time. But it was bound to be limited. The mighty Tywin Lannister would not allow their feelings to get in the way of a lion in Winterfell.

The fact of the matter was that Tywin Lannister was going to sell her off. It was never up for negotiation. Her claim was too powerful to allow it to fall to any other family and the lord hand was not going to let an opportunity like that pass. She'd much rather have Tyrion as her husband than any other.

"You take the bed. I'll sleep here" he patted the couch.

"Don't be ridiculous" Sansa rolled her eyes, standing and stretching her arms. "The bed is big enough for the both of us. There's no reason for you to hurt yourself trying to sleep on this hard thing."

"But I want you to be comfortable." Tyrion insisted and Sansa smiled at him.

"You promised you would not touch me. Were you lying?"

"Of course not." he shook his head emphatically but still looked at her with concern.

"Then I trust you." Perhaps it was the wine's effect on her, but she didn't feel uncomfortable with the thought of being so close to him at all. She trusted his word that he would not push her yet and it would be silly to respond to that generosity with distrust. By allowing him into the bed, she hoped to show him that she took his word.

His smile told her that her message was clear.

The two readied themselves separately before meeting on opposite sides of the bed. For the first time since he had stopped her from disrobing a few hours ago, Sansa felt apprehension fill the air. She pushed her thoughts away as she turned the blankets down and settled into bed. He would not touch her-he promised. After extinguishing the candles he did the same across from her. They sat silently, awkwardly, like two stiff dolls in the bed before he sighed heavily.

"I can still sleep on the couch...if you want..." he offered and Sansa pinched herself for being silly. She took a deep breath and turned to him with what she hoped was an encouraging smile.

"Hush. That couch is hardly comfortable to sit in, let alone sleep. I can handle this. You are already being far more kind than I could have expected from anyone else."

He looked saddened by her words and reached out to take her hand.

"You deserve so much more than this." He whispered.

"I know," she said honestly. "But to be honest you do to." He scoffed, making her smile. She squeezed his hand. "This is awful for both of us. But a friend told me recently that we must make the best of our circumstances. I don't believe you asked for this, and I certainly didn't, but it's happened. It's done and it could be a whole lot worse if you ask me."

He looked relatively grim before flashing her a wicked smile. "We're better off than poor Loras" he quipped.

Sansa laughed as any hint of apprehension faded. She settled herself down between the pillows, allowing her exhaustion to take the better of her.

"Good night, Tyrion." she whispered into the darkness.

"Good night, Sansa."

 **A/N: And a short chapter! Hope you guys enjoyed a rather less terrible wedding night than you were expecting!**

 **I just wanted to show the progression of their friendship and Sansa's inability to fit back into the mask she had clearly grown out of. She really had every intention of keeping it all inside, but was obviously unable to do so. I wanted them to have the real conversation on their wedding night that they didn't have in the show.**

 **Happy New Year everyone! Hope everyone had a spectacular start to 2017- I certainly did. Please review!**


	26. Chapter 26

Tyrion woke to a heavenly smell and a bad hangover. His head pounded and he pushed his face further into his pillows. A small clatter had him forcing his eyes open and he caught sight of a handmaiden across the way placing a tray of fruits on the table. The girl glanced towards the bed and Tyrion waved her away silently. She dipped into a curtsy before heading back out the door, closing it loudly behind her. Tyrion winced at the sound and rolled back over, finally facing the other occupant on the bed.

Sansa had clearly been woken by the careless maid and it looked like she was also in a bit of pain. The auburn beauty had her eyes shut tightly and one hand laying over her face. Tyrion swallowed hard at the sight of her. Sansa was absolutely stunning when she was all put together around court. She always looked the perfect maiden with her elaborately coiffed hair and elegant gowns. But Tyrion had to say that he much preferred the Sansa that he saw now. Her beautiful copper hair was splayed out over the pillow rustled from sleep and her soft, cotton nightgown looked more comfortable than those tight gown she wore around court. When she opened her eyes, they were still hazy and her cheeks were flushed a lovely shade of pink. She turned to look at him and her smile had him instantly hardening. Ignoring his treasonous body, he quickly wished her a good morning before fleeing the sheets. He threw on a dressing robe of his own and made his way towards the fruit the girl had left. He threw a few grapes in his mouth, willing his cock to obey him and stand down.

He heard shuffling behind him and soon Sansa was across from him, filling a plate with bits of melon. He watched her for a few moments. She didn't look like she regretted the peace they had found with each other last night. In fact, she was acting as if this whole situation was completely normal. She had _smiled_ at him when she had woken up, for gods sakes. He knew he had made the right decision by giving her some time before consummation. He frowned at the thought that his father would very quickly take that control away from him though. He couldn't stop his mind from returning to another girl he had called wife and what his father had done to her... He looked back to the sweet maiden before him. No...he would not allow his father to do anything like that again.

His eyes zeroed in on the knife on the platter and before he knew it, the knife was in his hand. Sansa, jumping from his sudden movement, looked up at him, shocked and confused.

"My lord-? she questioned, but he was already making his way to the bed. He jerked up the sleeve of his tunic, exposing a scabbed over cut that was still healing from the Blackwater. He pressed the tip of the blade onto the scab and winced as it slipped easily into his skin. "Tyrion!" Sansa screeched, running from her seat to his side, gripping his arm and pulling the knife away from the wound. "What are you doing?!"

"My father will send someone to come collect the sheets, Sansa" he growled determinedly, holding the dripping cut above the space she had just a moment ago been occupying. "He'll expect this."

Sansa sighed exasperatedly and ran to a chest of her clothes that had been sent here. Throwing it open, she rummaged for just a moment before returning with some cloth. She quickly yanked his arm towards her and started wrapping the cut.

"You want them thinking you raped me?" She said heatedly, distracted by trying to dress his wound. "Hm?" she glared at him and he opened his mouth to respond before she cut him off. "It's not true and I don't want anyone thinking it." Satisfied with her care, she went to the table, coming back with the pitcher of drinking water. She made to pour it on the sprinkle of blood, but Tyrion snatched it out of her hands. She glared at him and heat crackled between them before Tyrion took a deep breath, setting the pitcher down.

"You don't know my father, Sansa." he tried a different approach. "I would rather the whole of court think I'm a rapist than allow him to turn me into one." The lightheartedness of the morning had disappeared and Sansa's lovely cheeks had blanched. She sat on the bed beside him and didn't stop him when he undid her careful bandage. He pressed the clotting wound to the sheets until he was satisfied with the stain. He did hold it back out to her once finished and let her redress it. Her fingers worked quickly and efficiently and Tyrion's stomach dropped at the thought she probably had to practice on her own bandages. When she finished he took her hand and squeezed it, passing along thanks and an apology. She smiled slightly at him, accepting both, before they both returned to their breakfast.

Just as he thought, about an hour later an unfamiliar handmaiden came to the room to collect the laundry. Tyrion and Sansa had begun a game of Cyvasse and Sansa had met his eyes subtlety as the woman began pulling the sheets off the bed. Her back was to the woman, but Tyrion had a perfect view as the woman turned down the sheets, pausing slightly at the stain. Pleased that she looked fooled, he bit a smile but nodded slightly to his new bride, who looked relieved.

The handmaid left with her arms full and when the door closed behind her, Tyrion heard Sansa let out a breath. He patted her arm gently, rubbing small circles on her soft skin with his thumb.

"It's going to be okay, Sansa. I will protect you. From them all."

She nodded at him and Tyrion was glad to see some color returning to her face.

They spent the rest of the morning playing Cyvasse, Tyrion just barely beating her, before he had to leave her. He had put off work long enough and with the royal wedding coming up, he couldn't afford to take the whole day off. He kissed her hand as he left though, and hoped he hadn't imagined the hint of a blush on her pretty cheeks.


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: I had almost considered leaving it there-a wedding night with an optimistic view on the future- but of course I couldn't stop writing lol. Please enjoy this short chapter!**

They had actually left her alone for a full day after the wedding. For that, Sansa was grateful, but she was not surprised when Cersei floated into her rooms the morning after, a simpering smile painted on her lips. The queen had embraced her and called her sister, but every action was dripping with iciness. Cersei sent some servants to fetch some pastries and some wine. Sansa had quickly glanced towards the window, judging it to not yet be noon. Still, when the wine came, she forced herself to drink deeply. She would need it to get through this conversation.

The two women sat together and Cersei reached out and gripped her hand tightly.

"How are you feeling, little dove?" Now that she was a married woman and by law Cersei's sister, the nickname was a little weary. Still, Sansa forced herself to look down with a shamed look on her face.

Cersei and the rest of the court truly believed Tyrion had forced her to consummate the marriage. Sansa hated pretending like he had ravished her, but knew he was right: it was better than the alternative. And if the queen was going to believe her, she had to lie convincingly.

"I-I am well, your grace." she mumbled, peeking up through her lashes and seeing Cersei's smug face veiled with a look of concern. Sansa was truly a better actress.

"Oh, my sweet sister. I am so sorry for what that little imp made you do. Are you in pain?" Sansa nodded, not meeting the queens gaze. Cersei cooed and squeezed her hand. "I shall send for the Grand Maester. There is a tonic I used frequently after...Well, it works wonders." For a moment, Sansa truly looked at the golden woman opposite her. She wondered if Cersei really did have to consult Pycelle after rough coupling with the late king. Pity oozed through her at the thought. No wonder the queen was so brittle.

"Thank you, your grace" she spoke honestly. But Cersei's lip curled into a catlike smile again.

"I shall instruct him to keep it stocked and on hand until you grow big with child. I'm sure my brother will use you nightly until then. Perhaps it will ease your pain from all his perverse actions."

Sansa allowed her eyes to go wide in fear at the queens words. "Nightly?" she croaked. Cersei nodded.

"Yes, little dove. And hopefully his monstrous seed will be overruled by yours. If you birth a little imp like him, you will either be ripped apart from the delivery or live to see your child fed to the dogs. My father will not allow another creature like my brother to carry the Lannister name..."

Sansa didn't have to fake the color draining from her cheeks. She knew eventually she would carry Tyrion's child. She hadn't even thought about the possibility of delivering a dwarf. She knew what had happened to Lady Joanna. She could die if her child was like the father and that was terrifying. She couldn't even find it within herself to react to Cersei's words and she sat there in stunned silence.

Cersei waited patiently, taking a cake an licking the honey from her fingers. Finally, Sansa came to and nodded shakily. "I understand, your grace."

"Good!" Cersei spoke cheerfully, flashing her one of her cold smiles. "Come now, tell me...in what ways did my brother use you? I'm sure you have questions. My little brother must have done things a septa would never mention."

Annoyance fluttered through her. She knew she must convince Cersei that Tyrion bedded her, but there was no reason to continue as if he had been cruel.

"Lord Tyrion was kind, your grace. He was as gentle with me as he could be. It was indeed painful, but no more so than with normal maidens, I would guess. He is a good man."

Cersei's frown deepened with each word until she was practically scowling at her. "Is that so?" she snarled and Sansa nodded. "Well...perhaps he was gentle this time, but you can't hope that a man with his reputation will be so kind for very long. Either that or he will quickly return to the brothels. An unskilled little girl like you will not be able to satisfy his needs for very long. You'll be nothing more than a brood mare used to whelp his children." All pretenses of the motherly figure she had started with had faded. She stood abruptly and left in a swirl of silk, leaving Sansa alone.

The sudden departure had surprised Sansa, but she quickly recovered, crossing to the door and bolting it shut. She didn't want anymore unexpected visitors today.


	28. Chapter 28

Tyrion was not about to wait for his father to send for him. He held off until the day after his wedding night, but the next morning he made his way to the hand's chambers. He came upon his father bent over the large, imposing desk. Tyrion had always hated using this piece of furniture-it always seemed so daunting to him. However it fit his father perfectly. Tywin was scratching away at some paper and didn't even register his son entering. Tyrion took the seat on the opposite side of the desk and waited.

After a few tense moments, Tywin spoke in a gravely tone without raising his eyes. "What do you want?"

Tyrion chewed on his lip exaggeratedly. He was coming here to sell the story of him spoiling his child bride and he had expected Tywin to comment on it first. It couldn't be helped though, he would have to breach the subject. "I wanted you to know that I've done what you asked." He infused his tone with anger, knowing it would be what his father expected. It wasn't hard to channel that energy-he was furious that he even had to put on this mummers show. His father shouldn't be pressuring him to rape his wife. But this was the reality, so Tyrion had to sell it.

Tywin didn't even look up from whatever documents he was furiously writing. "I am aware." They sat in silence for a moment longer before his father finally looked at him. "Are you expecting applause for doing your duty?" Tyrion gritted his teeth. He should have expected this. Wasn't it parallel to the draining conversation they had had after he had risked his life protecting kings landing? He found no reason to mask his anger and glared at his father.

Tywin just sighed almost imperceptibly and returned to his work. "I expect news of a child soon. The lady Sansa is of fertile stock. It shouldn't take too long with the both of you...trying." Tyrion nodded stiffly. It took plenty of healthy couples years of trying before children came along. It would be no trouble convincing his father that there was no deception if Sansa didn't immediately grow large with child. The real risk would be him demanding Pycelle examine her to make sure there was no trouble. Even that dim witted old man would be able to tell a virgin from not. It would be an obstacle they could face at a later date. "And I expect the child to be healthy. I will not tolerate another..." Now Tywin was looking at him squarely, abandoning the paperwork in front of him and gesturing towards Tyrion's stunted body.

"Pray to the gods for that, father" Tyrion gritted out. He knew exactly what Tywin meant. He didn't want another dwarf living with the name Lannister. If it wouldn't put Sansa's health in jeopardy Tyrion would have found a sick sense of satisfaction if their firstborn (whenever they did consummate the marriage) shared his affliction. He would have loved to see the look on his father's face when he would be forced to deed the rock to what he hated. But Tyrion instantly shook that thought away. He would never wish his struggles on his child. Still, they would have no say...it was truly up to fate.

Tywin waved away mention of the gods. He knew his father was not a believer. "The gods will have nothing to do with it. If the child comes out like his father, he will not see the light of day." Tyrion stared at the hand in shock. He couldn't believe his father would stoop so low as to murder an infant of his own blood. Rage clouded his vision. Tywin could threaten him as much as he wanted. And he could even threaten Sansa to a degree-she was a grown woman and Tywin had no reason to hate her. But to threaten the life of his unborn child infuriated him. In that moment he knew what he would have to do. Whenever he and Sansa decided mutually to consummate their marriage, he'd be watchful. As soon as she conceived he would start plotting. His father would be dead in the ground before his child drew its first breath.

 **A/N: Sorry it's so short! Will be updating again soon, I promise!**


	29. Chapter 29

After the queen left, Sansa stayed in her and Tyrion's rooms, waiting for him to come back. She took a seat near the open window and settled down with some embroidery. She was working on a new piece-a great weirwood tree. It was the only thing that truly reminded her of home that was not outright forbidden to her. Joffrey had seen to it that all signs of the Stark sigil had been confiscated. As she monotonously pulled the needle and thread through the cloth, she allowed her mind to wander. Her conversation with Cersei had left her feeling sick. She felt so overwhelmed with everything around her- her brand new marriage, officially being a Lannister, the thought of consummating her relationship with Tyrion, and the eventual child they would have and what fate the child might be subjected to. She felt like her head was spinning, but she knew she had a little bit of time to sort through her feelings for her husband at least.

She trusted him when he told her that she would be in control of their physical relationship. Although she was angry that everyone at court thought he had raped her, she knew he was right to fool them all into thinking her maidenhead was broken. Now they could at least relax in the knowledge that Tywin would not be forcing them. Without any outside pressure, she knew Tyrion would give her all the time she needed. She had resolved herself to commit to this marriage, but was glad to take her time with the physical part. Having just a semblance of control over anything in her life was a new feeling for Sansa. She had been a pawn ever since the moment her father was arrested and she had had no hope that whenever she was married off that her status would change. She had figured she'd be married off to a greedy lord who would be eager to take her body and claim as quickly as possible. To instead be married to Tyrion-who she trusted as a friend and who put her personal feelings above any agenda-was a welcome change.

Ever since they had come to an understanding on their wedding night, Sansa had allowed her walls to fall again. When she and Tyrion first became friends before all this insanity, she had felt like she needed at least one person she could relax around. Tyrion's kindness and protection had allowed her to open up to him. Now that they were actually married, it only made sense that she trust her husband.

She found herself eager to have him back with her this evening. She placed the embroidery down and glanced towards the window. Seeing the sun low in the sky, she figured she should be expecting him back soon. She rose from her seat and moved to dress herself for dinner. Luckily they had been excused from court activities for the week. It was supposedly meant for the newlyweds to have some privacy, but although they were not using it like other newlyweds might, Sansa was grateful for the time to really get to know each other. She weeded through the multiple gowns in Lannister colors and chose one in a deep green she had commissioned while she still thought she would be a Tyrell. Still, the color made her copper hair shine so she pulled on the sleeves and started fastening it. She skipped over the gold accents and instead paired the gown with simple, silver jewelry. She checked herself in the mirror and considered sending for a handmaiden to dress her hair. She bit her lip, thinking about how they'd pull and twist it up and decided against it. She liked it much better around her shoulders so she just twisted the sides up herself and pinned them easily. It was a northern style, much simpler than what any other lady at court wore. But it suited her-making her look like the northern maiden she was.

Feeling much more comfortable and like herself than she had in months, she moved to the table and began setting up the Cyvasse board. An evening of good conversation and the fun game would be just what she needed to clear her head. She sent for dinner as well, asking for plenty of good food and the dornish red she knew Tyrion loved. She felt a wave of excitement run through her as she watched the door, knowing he would arrive soon and eager to see the smile on his face when he saw what she had prepared. Her mother had always stressed that she should work to please her future husband. Sansa had seen how happy and comfortable her parents were around each other and wanted to strive to achieve that in her own marriage. She was optimistic with the level of respect she already experienced with Tyrion, but knew that until she was ready to consummate, she should try to show him that she cared in other ways.

She was determined to have a good night with him tonight.

 **A/N: Another short chapter-I'm sorry! I'll try to make the next few longer. It's just so easy to update short chapters quickly.**


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N: Woo! Nice long chapter to make up for a series of shorter ones! Hope you guys enjoy.**

Tyrion finally closed the heavy ledger and pressed his fingers to his temple, trying to chase away the forming headache. This damned royal wedding was going to cost the crown thousands of dragons that would have been put to much better use aiding in the ongoing war. The stress of trying to find the money and his conversation with his father he had earlier was weighing on him heavily and he was ready to call it a night.

He swung his little legs around and hopped down from the desk. It was much closer to his size than the overly large one in the chambers of the hand and it was the one thing Tyrion was glad for. This smaller workplace was grating in every other sense though and Tyrion was insulted that he had been given them. Still, he tried to forget about all the injustices done to him and made his way to his rooms. Back to Sansa.

With every step that he took, he felt lighter. He was in much need of some relaxation and just knowing Sansa would be waiting for him made him move just a little faster. The night before had been slightly less awkward than the first and to be honest, he was getting used to sharing his bed with the redheaded beauty. Just as he expected, her heavenly scent lingered in the sheets and by association his own skin. He had noticed the smell earlier today and caught himself envisioning her elongated body reclining next to him in bed. The way her modest shift had clung to the curves underneath and her pink lips had parted in sleep had him waking early just to stare without making her uncomfortable. He had always admired her in her finery at court, but seeing her so vulnerable and unguarded was especially enthralling. Especially knowing he was the only one to witness it. That to everyone else she was a cold, impenetrable pillar of ice. That only he was privy to her gentle smiles and her musical laughter. He couldn't help the smile that came over his face as he came upon _their_ door.

And when he opened it and walked in, his smile only grew. Sansa was in the process of setting up their Cyvasse board and at the noise he made, she glanced up immediately- a smile brightening her face at the sight of him. A warm feeling bubbled up in him at the sight of her and her reaction. Tyrion couldn't remember the last time someone looked at his arrival like that. Whores had always had joy in their faces whenever he came to the brothels, but it was accompanied by greed in their eyes- they knew he paid well for their services. And the gods knew he was only ever met with disdain from his family-all except for Jaime. But even his brother never looked quite like Sansa did now.

"My Lord" she greeted him demurely.

The perfect lady always made him wish he could be her knight in shining armour. Although he would never look the part, he knew she always enjoyed when he treated her courteously, so he stepped closer to her, taking her hand and pressing a kiss to her fingers.

"Good evening, My Lady" he murmured, watching her eyes sparkle at the gesture.

"Our dinner has just arrived," she nodded towards the table. "I hope you are hungry."

He quickly took in the presentation of food on the table and the large flagon on wine and chuckled. "Ah!" he said warmly "Just what I needed..." he popped a brussel sprout into his mouth and poured two goblets of wine. He drank deeply and brought the other to where Sansa was still meticulously setting up the board.

"Tonight is the night I beat you" She said determinedly causing Tyrion to chuckle. So far she had only beaten him once, for Tyrion found it would be insulting to let her win. Had she been a less skillful player, he might have gone easy on her, but she had a tactful mind and he found even when he was giving it his all, he still barely won. He loved that she challenged him and was eager to see her in triumph again.

"How about we make it interesting?" he tested, smiling at her confused look.

"What do you mean?"

"How about for each territory one of us conquers, the loser has to tell them a secret. Something no one else knows." Tyrion was eager to learn more about Sansa and although he knew she was more open with him than anyone else in King's Landing, there was still so much she was guarded about. Perhaps with a little game and a little bit of wine, he could make progress on drawing her out of her shell.

She looked at him for just a moment and he could see the cogs turning in her blue eyes before she nodded, a slight smile on her lips.

"Alright...But start coming up with secrets now. You'll be telling me plenty of them." He laughed loudly and went back to the table. He filled two plates with the stuffed dates and roasted vegetables and brought them over to where the game was mapped out. Sansa had just finished with the elaborate pieces and took the offered plate. She picked a date and licked the honey from her fingers while her shrewd eyes took in the board. Tyrion sat opposite her and they began to play.

Of course, she took the first region and Tyrion handed over his last soldier there defeatedly. She smiled at him wickedly. "So? Tell me a secret." her playful tone had him chuckling again.

"Okay...okay!" he raised his hands and pondered what he should tell her. "You know, it was technically my father who taught me how to play Cyvasse." She looked at him expectantly. "He wasn't trying to, mind you, but the result was the same. There was a few months where he would come to our chambers every morning and try to teach Jaime. Jaime showed promise as a great swordsman even that young and my father was trying to groom him into a master tactician." Tyrion snorted at the memory. Jaime could not care less about the game or the strategy behind war. He was much to caught up with Cersei even then and when he wasn't with her he was beating everyone in the training yard. He had no time to sit still and pay attention to the strategy. He was a soldier-the best of them-but he would never be a leader. "Anyhow, I paid much closer attention than my brother ever did. I begged my Aunt Genna to play with me since I knew my father would not. I listened to my father every morning and I practiced with her as often as I could."

He saw her smile across from him, thinking about a young Tyrion trying so hard to learn. His own smile faded as he remembered how the story ended. "My father found out of course and had a few cross words with my aunt. Genna was never a docile woman and apparently they got into quite the screaming match. Whatever was said, it was only a few weeks later that my father had orchestrated a match between her and one of the Frey boys. That was a nail in the coffin for them. Genna was so furious and I don't know if they've truly had a kind word between them since. I remember the day she left... She was like a mother to me..." Genna had always been there for him-always his golden champion. She had been a tart woman, never gentle or sweet like he had heard his mother was, but she fought anyone who had thought less of Tyrion, even her brother. He would have to write to her soon, tell her of this marriage. Genna would surely be pleased that Tyrion's wife was so kind and sweet.

The sudden seriousness of their conversation left them silent for a moment before Tyrion shook it off. "Anyway," he forced himself to say cheerfully, "prepare a secret of your own, My Lady. I will not let you take me so easily!" He saw her sympathetic frown while he was speaking of Genna, but was glad to see her smooth it over at his transition. She truly was skillful at reading people and interacting with them. She would have made a spectacular queen.

When about a half an hour later he managed to take her desert he grinned triumphantly. "Ah ha!" he cried.

"Fine..." she groaned dramatically causing him to grin. She chewed her lip slightly before launching into a description of the godswood in Winterfell. She elegantly described the setting in a way that had Tyrion mesmerized. "So one day we were all swimming in the pools when the boys decided to run off. They thought it would be funny to hide in the trees and make us think we were abandoned. Arya was little then. She had always been fearless but this was the first time I saw her truly upset. She actually cried, thinking we were all alone so far from home. I hate myself for it, but I remember being happy she was so upset. It meant I could comfort her. I knew Robb would catch and earful from father if he actually left us alone, so I knew we were safe. But I just remember holding my little sister and wiping away her tears..." Sansa looked so dreamy right then, lost in her memory before her eyes turned sad. "It was just after then that Arya lost interest in me. She became so much closer to the boys, always acting so rowdy and unladylike. Still...when everything happened on the kingsroad...with our wolves..." Tyrion nodded solemnly. He hadn't been present of course, but he had heard everything. Cersei truly was a cruel bitch. "I saw her look at me when I was brought before the king. She looked at me the same way she had in the godswood that day. Begging me to protect her. And I didn't..." He watched his wife's eyes fill with tears and he took her hand as she trailed off. He allowed her to cry for a moment before she collected herself.

"I didn't protect her that day." she said resolutely. "Nor while we were here in King's Landing. I truly abandoned my sister. Now I don't even know if she's alive or not."

Tyrion had truly wanted to get past some of her walls, but he hadn't wanted to upset her. He squeezed her fingers comfortingly. "Sansa..." she looked at him with vacant eyes. "I know it may not be much, but I will do what I can to find out what happened to your sister. I know half the country is looking for her and I may not be able to find her...but if it would ease your mind I'll spend everything I have on news of her." She continued to look at him emptily for a moment before warmth flooded into her face again. She nodded and wiped the tears from her face.

"I would like that, My Lord."

The game continued and Tyrion made a point to keep all other secrets light-hearted stories. Sansa did the same-telling him of her affinity for lemon cakes and of the snow fights she had with her siblings. Her tears were forgotten as she finally took his king and laughed in victory. Tyrion mock-bowed to her in defeat and threw another log onto the fire. The two of them spent the rest of the evening discussing strategy before heading to bed together.

Sansa slept instantly, allowing Tyrion to observe her in slumber again. After just a moment taking her in, he settled down into the pillows and felt himself nodding off. Just as he was losing consciousness he felt her turn her face into his shoulder. The last thought he had that day was of her perfect, lemony scent and how it would certainly cling to him tomorrow.

 **Just a little fluff 3**


	31. Chapter 31

The rest of the week was gloriously uneventful. Although he was not excused from work, Tyrion made a point of spending every evening with Sansa in their rooms. They had had a blissful few nights just getting to know each other on a deeper level. He had described Casterly Rock to her before, but now that it might be her future home, she took much more interest than she had before. She loved Tyrion's descriptions of the salty, warm air and the glorious architecture of his ancestral home. It seemed like what she had always dreamed of as a child. She remembered the expectations she had had coming south-about the grand castles and the elegant court... The shock of finding a rancid city and the vulture-like lords and ladies had been disappointing to say the least. But Tyrion's image of the Rock and Lannisport were much more in tune to what she had always dreamed of.

Sansa had gotten spoiled by the solitude she had been allowed this week, but she wasn't surprised when at the end she received an invitation from Margaery for tea and a demand from Cersei to join her to discuss Sansa's new role. She sent a penned note to her friend promising to see her soon and then dressed herself to visit with the queen. With a grimace she pulled on one of the Lannister crimson gowns Cersei had presented to her and sat in front of her vanity to have her hair pulled up into a southron nest. When she made her way to the queen's chambers she felt nothing like herself, though she was used to this disguise. She wasn't looking forward to another afternoon with the queen. She was honestly surprised to even get the summons considering how their last conversation went. Sansa had been hopeful that her demands to spend time with the queen would go unfulfilled. But here she was, on her way.

So to say she was delighted when she walked into the room and saw Margaery and a few Tyrell cousins would be an understatement. The joy Sansa was feeling at the extra company was clearly missing from Cersei's face. The golden queen looked beyond annoyed to be in the Tyrell's presence. Tyrion had told her that Lord Tywin was practically ordering Cersei to entertain the young queen-to-be and Sansa assumed that she had invited her this afternoon grudgingly.

Margaery rose instantly at Sansa's entrance with a large smile, moving forward to hug her friend. Over Margaery's shoulder, Sansa caught the queen's eyeroll. Cersei did not rise from her seat by the window and waited for Sansa to finish with the Tyrell girl before coming and paying her respects, sinking into a curtsy.

"Your grace" Sansa greeted and Cersei waved to the seat closer to her than the flock of roses.

"Tell me, Sansa. How is married life treating you?" Cersei spoke relatively quietly, but Margaery's sharp ears heard and she moved closer to the pair, grinning happily.

"Yes, Lady Sansa, how are you and Lord Tyrion getting on?" Margaery plopped down on the end of Cersei's couch much to the queen's annoyance. Cersei had aggravation clear on her face at the interruption, but said nothing.

Sansa smiled at her friend. "We are doing well, thank you." She remembered that Cersei had sent her the ointment they had spoken of and although the bottle remained unopened, she allowed her eyes to go downcast as she thanked the queen for her help.

"Of course, little dove. Keep it. You'll have need of it again." Cersei's face was for once unreadable as she stared at Sansa intently.

The tense moment lasted a few seconds before Margaery started peppering her with questions about her wedding night and the week that followed. Sansa did her best to be as vague as possible, claiming her modest upbringing for the lack of details. The queen stayed out of the conversation, just sitting there sipping her wine and watching the two ladies like a lion observing it's prey.

Sansa was eager to switch the spotlight off of her and Tyrion's physical relationship so she asked Margaery how she was getting along with the king.

"Oh he is so gallant!" Margaery sighed dramatically and Sansa saw Cersei's knuckles turn white on her goblet. "He has promised to take me hunting! Can you believe that? Me on a horse chasing down a stag!" The Tyrell women all chittered in laughter and Sansa gave a weak smile. Good for her, that Joffrey was still playing the gallant king. She had been grateful that the Tyrell's seemed to keep her outburst that first day in the gardens a secret. It would have been disastrous if they had cancelling the wedding. The Lannister's would have demanded to know why and if they discovered that Sansa had told them the truth about their king...she shuddered at the thought. "I am greatly looking forward to being his wife..." Margaery batted her eyelashes in feigned modesty. "And to be able to help those less fortunate as queen."

Now Cersei was practically seething, though she held herself together. "Yes. Joffrey tells me you stopped your carriage at Flea Bottom on your way back from the sept this morning. Gone to see some _orphans_?" The queen sneered at her, saying the word as if they were vermin.

"Yes. I paid a visit to an orphanage the High Septon told me about." Now she turned to Sansa. "You see I a great deal of work with the poor back in Highgarden and I'm eager to bring that mentality to Kings Landing. The lowest among us are no different from the highest if you give them a chance and approach them with an open heart."

"An open heart is what you'll get in Flea Bottom if you're not careful, my dear." Cersei snarled. "Not long ago, we were attacked by a mob there. We had a full complement of guards that didn't stop them." Sansa winced at the memory and how close she had gotten to The Stranger. If it hadn't been for Tyrion and Sandor, she would have been raped and probably murdered. Margaery was brave to face that willingly. Suddenly cold, Sansa pulled her shawl a little tighter around her shoulders. Cersei picked up on the movement and a catlike grin came over her features. "We all barely escaped with our lives, didn't we little dove?"

Margaery took in Sansa's fearful gaze and frowned, taking her friend's hand. "Hunger turns men into beasts." She said soothingly. "I'm glad House Tyrell has been able to help in this regard." Now she turned to Cersei and they matched eyes calculatingly. "They tell me 100 wagons arrive daily now from the Reach. Wheat, barley, apples. We've had a blessed harvest. And, of course, it's our duty to assist the capital in time of need. I'm well versed in these kinds of charitable work. I know what I'm doing." She squeezed Sansa's hand comfortingly, winking at her.

"I'm sure you do..." Cersei growled out, draining her cup in one gulp.


	32. Chapter 32

Sansa was relieved when Cersei kicked them out of her chambers. Although having Margaery and the other Tyrell cousins present did substantially make the afternoon easier to stomach, she was eager to get out from under the queen's dagger-like stare. She was looking forward to an uneventful evening with Tyrion, but Margaery kept hold on her arm, practically dragging her out towards the maidenvault where all the Tyrell women were residing until the royal wedding. Once there, the flock of women settled down onto pillows and picked up their sewing. They chattered easily to each other while they worked and Sansa was envious that the family was all here together and got along so well. Her mind flashed to her lost little sister and couldn't help the smile that came over her face. As if Arya would ever enjoy herself among these silly girls.

Margaery led her to a slightly more secluded spot and called for some light dinner to be sent up. "I hope your dashing husband will not mind me stealing you away for a bit" she teased with a smile. "I have so many questions and I know it must be hard to speak so in front of his own sister. Tell me truly," she gripped Sansa's arm. "How was it? Was he truly gentle with you? Did it hurt badly? Was it what you were expecting?"

The sudden onslaught of questions had Sansa sputtering. Trying to get her story straight, she took a deep breath and responded rather woodenly. "Lord Tyrion...He was very kind. He...he was patient with me and did not rush me and took his time to make sure I was comfortable." She knew she was a bad liar, so she tried to stick to what was actually true, but she didn't know how convincing she was.

Margaery nodded slightly, but was still looking at her expectantly. Sansa could feel a blush rising in her cheeks at the scrutiny and her failing. "It...was messier than I thought it would be." Finally Margaery raised her eyebrows and giggled.

"Yes, I'd expect so!" she laughed. "Was there very much blood? As a maiden soon to be wed I want to know what to expect." She fluttered her eyelashes modestly. Sansa faltered slightly. She was surprised that Margaery would ask her advice as it was only last week that Sansa was going to _her_ for knowledge. Still she wracked her mind, trying to remember how big the stain was they had created on the sheets.

"Not...not very much. Just a little, really. I would not worry." Again, Margaery looked at her apprasingly before nodding.

"I see. But he was kind after? Did he do it the next morning?"

Again, Sansa thought to her conversation with Cersei. About how she should expect her husband to take her as often as possible. "Oh, yes. And the next night." She lied.

"You mentioned the creme the queen offered you. Did it work to ease the pain? I'm sure you only needed it after the first time..."

Sansa nodded. "Yes it worked quite well."

Their conversation was halted by the arrival of dinner. Sansa and Margaery spoke of the upcoming wedding for the rest of the evening, a change Sansa was glad for. She wasn't sure how convincing she was.

"What are you wearing, Lady Sansa?" The future queen asked as she took a sip of Arbour Gold.

"I'm having a new gown commissioned actually. A gift from Lord Tyrion." When she had showed him the numerous gowns in Lannister colors he had scoffed and sent for a seamstress. He had ordered gowns ranging in colors, all her favorites and all trimmed in grey or silver. A little touch of home. She described one of the finest to Margaery, a lovely plum gown with silver accents.

Margaery smiled widely before walking over to her vanity. "Then I have the perfect thing for you! I was going to wait until the wedding breakfast at the gift exchange, but now that I know it will match so perfectly, I just can't wait!" She took a box from the counter and brought it over to her. Sansa opened the gift and gasped at the finery inside. A lovely hairnet fixed with black crystals.

"Oh, Margaery!" She smiled up at her friend. "Oh, it's beautiful. Thank you so much!" She fingered the dark jewels and imagined them glinting off her copper hair. It _would_ look marvelous with the gown she was waiting for. Margaery waved away her thanks with a flick of her wrist.

"We are family, after all Lady Sansa." Margaery's eyes twinkled while she examined her friend.

...

"It hasn't happened." A voice rang out in the darkness. "She remains a maiden still."

"Are you sure?" Came a hissed reply.

"Yes. The roses are certain. The imp has not spoiled her."

"Excellent...And the hairnet?"

"The she-wolf will wear it on the day. We may have had a bit of a setback, but the plan will go ahead as we intended."

"The stupid fool came to be useless in the end."

"Don't worry, he's been disposed of. He will not be able to tie this to us."

"He better not."

"Relax...in the end we will both have what we want."


	33. Chapter 33

As Tyrion made his way into the small council chambers, he was instantly put on edge. The king had decided to grace them with his presence and the glee that was evident on his face at Tyrion's arrival was not a good sign.

"Killed a few puppies today?" He muttered under his breath, but Joffrey's manic grin only grew.

"Show him!" the king gestured to Pycelle. "Go on-show him!" he cried as the old man moved slowly. The Grand Maester went to hold out a parchment to Tyrion, but as soon as he went to grab it, the man let the paper flutter to the floor. Glaring at Pycelle in annoyance, he bent down to retrieve the letter.

"Ohhh!" he groaned as if remorseful. "I'm sorry, my Lord- old fingers." He wiggled the perfectly functional fingers and Tyrion rolled his eyes. The blasted man would never forgive Tyrion for throwing him in the black cells for a night, but if all he could inflict was minor inconveniences, Tyrion would take it. It was well worth it.

He unscrolled the parchment and took a moment to scan the gibberish. He read aloud- ""Roslin caught a fine fat trout. Her brothers gave her a pair of wolf pelts for her wedding. Signed Walder Frey."" He glanced up at his father, who was staring at him intently. "Is that bad poetry, or is it supposed to mean something?"

Before Lord Tywin could respond, Joffrey interrupted. "Robb Stark is dead! And his bitch mother!" Tyrion felt as if a stone had been dropped in his stomach as he reread the paper in front of him. Could it truly be?

The king turned to the Maester while Tyrion tried desperately to process this dreadful news. "Write back to Lord him for his service and command him to send Robb Stark's head to me." Then he turned to his mother "I'm going to serve it to Sansa at my wedding feast," he chittered gloatingly.

Immediately rage clouded Tyrion's vision. How dare this pathetic worm of a king think that Tyrion would stand idly by as he brutalized his wife both physically and emotionally. Tyrion thought back to the moment he had been forced to tell sweet Sansa that he was to be her new bridegroom. How before the words were even out of his mouth she had been paralyzed with fear even at the thought of something happening to her family. He was terrified to bring this news to her now, terrified of how she would react. How dare this boy look forward to seeing his wife break?

It did seem as if everyone in the room was reacting at least similarly to Joffrey's declaration. Even Pycelle looked slightly uncomfortable and Lord Varys even spoke up. "Your Grace, Lady Sansa is your aunt by marriage." Disgust was clear in his tone, but Cersei just gave a strained smile.

"A joke." She simpered, clearly trying to smooth it over. "Joffrey did not mean it."

But the boy king seemed oblivious to the distaste in the room. "Yes, I did." He then sneered towards Tyrion, who was struggling to keep his seat and not strangle his nephew. "I'm going to have it served to Sansa at my wedding feast."

Silence engulfed the room and it seemed as if everyone was waiting for Tyrion to respond. "No." He practically whispered, scared that if he released any of the fury that was building in him then he would say something unforgivable. If he unleashed his anger now, he wouldn't put it passed Joffrey to throw him in the dungeons, or worse. And he couldn't do that. He needed to be there for Sansa. She would be all alone again and he needed be there to protect her. "She is no longer yours to torment."

But Joffrey just gave him a sinister grin. " _Everyone_ is mine to torment." Never had he been so reminded of the mad king than right now. "You'd do well to remember that, you little monster."

Tyrion couldn't help himself, but kept his neutral tone. "Oh, I'm a monster?! Perhaps you should speak to me more softly, then. Monsters are dangerous and just now kings are dying like flies."

Silence engulfed the room again as everyone processed Tyrion's threat. Joffrey looked around wildly. "I could have your tongue out for saying that!" He exclaimed incredulously.

With a stern look from Tywin, Cersei rushed to try to alleviate the situation. "Let him make his threats. Hmm? He's a bitter little man." She glared at her brother, and placed a hand on her sons arm, willing him to calm. Joffrey looked for a moment like he would cooperate, but Pycelle's wheezing voice rang out.

"Lord Tyrion should apologize immediately. Unacceptable, disrespectful, and in very bad taste!" Cersei and Tywin both flashed the Maester looks of irritation as Joffrey pulled himself out of his mother's grip.

"I am the _king_!" He screeched and Tyrion caught Lord Varys openly rolling his eyes. "I will punish you!" Joffrey pointed an accusing finger in Tyrion's face, but he still sat stoically. The temper tantrum he was throwing was not riling Tyrion in the slightest. He was so angry he didn't think he could move without murdering his family. So he sat, unimpressed, as the king ranted.

It seemed as if he wasn't the only one annoyed by this display. "Any man who must say, "I am the king" is no true king." Tywin growled out in a bored tone. He fixed Cersei with a hard look before moving on to Joffrey. "I'll make sure you understand that when I've won your war for you." He moved as if to wrap up the council meeting, but the king was too fired up to allow the insult to pass.

His eyes were wild as he started screaming again. "My father won the real war! He killed Prince Rhaegar- He took the crown, while you hid under Casterly Rock!"

Now even Cersei stared at her son in horror as everyone waited silently to see how the old lion would react. Joffrey himself seemed to realize what he had said and stood in muted horror before trying to stand tall. Tyrion allowed himself to survey his father, curious to see how Tywin would discipline his king.

To his credit, Tywin kept calm, as always, and just raised an eyebrow at the boy. He was almost smirking as spoke, his eyes not leaving Joffrey. "The king is tired. See him to his chambers."

Cersei immediately stood and gripped her sons arm tightly. "Come along." She murmured in his ear, tugging him towards the door. But Joffrey did not go quietly. He stood his ground, trying to keep up the staring match with Tywin.

"I'm not tired." He growled, irritated. Tywin just continued staring at him, almost amused.

Cersei was clearly getting more anxious. "We have so much to celebrate!" she coaxed. "A wedding to plan. You must rest."

"Grand Maester, perhaps some essence of nightshade to help him sleep." Tyrion watched this power play with some satisfaction.

" I'm not... _tired!_ " Joffrey was now yelling, but as Pycelle stood with Cersei, it was clearly a losing game. Together they herded the king out.

Varys also stood to leave and Tyrion pushed his own chair out, eager to get to Sansa before Joffrey.

"Not you." His father declared and Tyrion turned to him. They waited until the chamber was otherwise empty.

"You just sent the most powerful man in Westeros to bed without his supper!" He exclaimed with mock indignation. Now his father snorted slightlly.

"You're a fool if you believe he's the most powerful man in Westeros."

"A treasonous statement! Joffrey is king!" he said sarcastically.

His father sneered at him. "You really think a _crown_ gives you power?"

"No, I think armies give you power. Robb Stark had one, never lost a battle, and you defeated him all the same." Tywin nodded smugly. "Oh, I know. Walder Frey gets all the credit- or the blame, I suppose, depending on your allegiance." Murdering someone under guest rite was one of the worst crimes you could commit. Walder Frey was an idiot to think that this action would bring him prestige. His name would be spit upon for decades. "Walder Frey is many things, but a brave man? No. He never would have risked such an action, unless he had certain assurances..."

"Which he got from me. Do you disapprove?" He seemed bored again.

"I'm all for cheating, this is war. But to slaughter them at a wedding..." It was a great injustice that would darken both participating families.

"Explain to me why it is more noble to kill ten thousand men in battle than a dozen at dinner."

"So that's why you did it- to save lives?" He spoke dripping with sarcasm.

His father was becoming impatient with his lack of understanding. "To _end_ the war- to _protect_ the family. Do you want to write a song for the dead Starks? Go ahead! Write one. But I'm in this world a little while longer- to defend the Lannisters and to defend my blood."

"And it is _my_ wife who will be paying the price! The northerners will _never_ forget this!" Why couldn't he see that this would hurt them in the end?

"Good. Let them remember what happens when they march on the South." Tywin stood to leave, deeming the conversation over. "All the Starks are dead, save your wife. Winterfell is a ruin. Roose Bolton will be named Warden of the North until your son by Sansa comes of age." He seemed oblivious to Tyrion's rage as he looked down at him. "You've done your duty so far, but she needs to conceive."

"Do you think she'll open her legs for me after I tell her how we murdered her mother and brother?!" Tyrion was furious. All his father could think about was the end game. Having a Lannister seat in the north. Sansa would be broken by this news, but it didn't matter at all to the great lion. He watched Tyrion's outburst with emotionless eyes.

"One way or another, you will do your duty to this house."

And with that he swept out of the room, leaving Tyrion to deal with the aftermath of his actions.

 **A/N: Sorry guys! I know some people were hoping that the RW would not occur, but it's just too major of a plot point. Next chapter we will see how Sansa reacts!**


	34. Chapter 34

**WARNING: A little violence.**

Sansa pulled the embroidery thread through with her needle and admired the almost finished work. The handkerchief was to be her wedding gift to Margaery, so it had to be perfect. She and Tyrion had discussed formal gifts for the royal couple, but Sansa wanted to make something a little more personal for her friend. She was pleased with the work done so far. The little doe was quite lifelike, crowned with golden Tyrell roses. Underneath she had wanted to fuse the words of her maiden house and that which Margaery was marrying into : _Strong and Furious_ , but the words had been laughable paired with sweet little doe that Sansa had embroidered. She guessed that it would have looked better with her original idea, a great lion, but when she had mentioned her work to Tyrion, he had given her an odd look and reminded her that the official sigil of the king was a stag. Sansa had been annoyed by her own mistake and apologized. Although Tyrion waved off her apologies, she couldn't help but feel as if he was discomfited by her words. Probably he was just hesitant to share a sigil with such a monster.

So a doe it was, and instead of house words, it would just be the pretty picture. It was at least going to be something that she was proud to present, even if it was just a token of her friendship. Her eyes strayed to the counter where the box Margaery had given her rested. She stood and moved towards the box, lifting the lid and revealing the hairnet again. It really was a magnificent piece- dark, buttery silver adorned with gleaming amethysts. It was finer than anything she had ever owned and she was looking forward to wearing it. Her fingers smoothed over the glossy stones and she imagined it holding her copper hair. The contrast would be lovely. Her small handkerchief was pitiful in comparison, but it was handmade and Sansa was proud of it. And they would be giving the couple some other finery as the official wedding gift. Tyrion had mentioned that he had a few suggestions. As she closed the box again and moved to set it down, a loud banging behind her startled her.

She jumped at the noise and turned to see her door thrown open and the king panting in the doorway with a malicious grin painted on his lips. Ice dripped through her veins at the sight. She hadn't truly been alone with him since her wedding, when he had threatened to come to her in these rooms and rape her. She was suddenly aware of all the exits and her heart sank as the only true one was right where he was standing. She gulped and forced herself to smile, albeit shakily.

"Y-your Grace!" she greeted with a cursty. She held it for just a moment before rising. She kept the smile forced on her face as she tried to look as pleasant as possible. Perhaps she could make it out of here unscathed-he hadn't even brought his knights, she noticed. Though she couldn't truly tell if that was a good sign or not. Her smile was met with a catlike grin of his own as he stared at her hungrily. Joffrey sauntered into the room before slamming the door closed behind him. Sansa startled at the noise, but tried to keep her composure. The gleam in Joffrey's eyes made it clear he had caught her flinch, but he didn't comment on it.

"Lady Sansa," he purred as he moved closer to her. She could feel herself trembling as he approached, but was surprised to see him pass her without a touch and seat himself on the recliner. He sprawled himself out on their couch and picked a grape from the fruit platter that had remained untouched the whole day. He threw the grape in his mouth and bit into it savagely, returning his eyes to her form. Sansa stood awkwardly as he openly appraised her, hoping he would state his business with her soon. "I wanted to come see how you fared, my lady!" His teasing tone did little to soothe her nerves, but she nodded anyway.

"I am well, Your Grace. I thank you for your concern." If he wanted to play the gallant king, she would play the pleasing maiden.

Joffrey nodded while he indulged in a few more pieces of fruit. "Yes...yes...I am _quite_ concerned about you, my lady. You are enjoying life here? In the capital, at my court? You are not... _unhappy_?" His words made the hair on the back of her neck stand, but she just nodded emphatically. She didn't know what he wanted from her, but knew if she told him the truth it would not end well for her. So she put on her most convincing smile and lied through her teeth.

"Absolutely, your grace. It is all I dreamed of."

"Even your marriage?" The king raised his eyebrow at her, and Sansa felt like he was just playing with her as a cat does a mouse. She was so confused by this line of questioning. Did he want her to be miserable? Well, obviously in the end, but what did he want to hear right now? Although her friendship...relationship with Tyrion was the best thing about King's Landing, she doubted Joffrey wanted to hear that. So she dipped her eyes slightly and allowed her smile to droop.

"I of course am heartbroken to have lost yourself, your grace," she cursed herself for the flattery as she saw his eyes darken and lower to her chest, "But I was happy to do my duty towards the crown. The Lady Margaery will make a perfect queen for you. Th-...the imp is suitable for a traitor's daughter like myself." She hated letting that dreaded word pass her lips, but she needed to convince this boy-king of her distaste.

She jumped again slightly as he stood abruptly and made his way over to her. She backed up slightly until her back came into contact with her vanity. Joffrey cornered her, placing his hands on the counter behind her on each side. She was utterly trapped and felt her heart pounding. His cruel smile sent shivers down her spine, but she forced herself to stand straight, not giving in to her fear. "But you are _happy_ , my lady?" he practically whispered in her ear. His hot breath tickled her skin and she hated herself for thinking of Tyrion. His gentle breath on her neck as they slept was nothing like this monster's. She shook the pleasurable memory away and focused on the task at hand. _Get out of this alive... Get out of this with your maidenhead..._

So she did her best to smile, though she knew it wouldn't convince anyone and nodded slightly.

"Yes, Your Grace. I am happy here."

If anything, his smile grew more sinister at her words. "Interesting, my lady. Though I am glad for it, I doubt I would be so happy in your situation." One hand crept up to hold her neck, reminiscent of her wedding day. While his grip was not bruising, she couldn't move from his hold. She was utterly powerless and confused until his next words. "If my family was recently slaughtered, I don't think I could be as pleased." His words made the blood drain from her face. _No..._ "I think it admirable, my lady, that you can fuck your husband happily every night-spread your legs for a man that helped murder your mother...your brother...all your family."

His lips were practically pressed against her ear and each whispered word was a gut-wrenching blow. Her mother...Robb... they were gone. She had no more hope that her dashing brother would ride for the capital and rescue her. She would never feel her mother's embrace again. She didn't have anyone left. W _hen the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives_. There was no pack for her left. She couldn't help the tears welling in her eyes, but she forced herself to stand straight. She had to be strong right now. The king would take advantage of any weakness she showed right now. No matter how much she wanted to collapse in anguish, she couldn't. Not yet. Joffrey was still watching her with a sadistic grin and Sansa couldn't help the fury that washed over her in place of devastation.

She immediately moved to break free from his hold. She didn't care what punishments she would receive from fighting him. There was nothing left for him to take from her. She angrily shoved him away and moved to escape his trap. He had grown stronger in the past few months though, and her shoving did little to free herself. It did, however, pull a maniacal laugh from the king. All pretense of courtly behavior dissolved with her struggling and he immediately shoved her back against the counter. He returned one hand to her neck, now not so gentle, and used the other to grope her breast. Disgusted, furious and heartbroken, she continued to struggle against him.

Before she knew it, she was screaming, but not necessarily for help. She didn't know when she went from struggling to get away to trying to scratch Joffrey's eyes out, but it was clear he was not expecting aggression from her. She fought him with everything that she had, screaming out her pain and anguish. There was no accounting for who was stronger, Joffrey was larger and had spent years in the training yard and hunting, while Sansa had pursued womanly activities like sewing, but she was overflowing with anger and, without anything to lose, they were actually evenly matched. Her nails dug into his arms, drawing blood, and he snatched them back, immediately backhanding her as hard as he could. Sansa practically laughed at this though. She was used to his knight's mailed fists and Joffrey's weak slap was nothing in comparison. Her laugh only infuriated him further and he grabbed her hair, throwing her to the ground.

"You fucking bitch!" He railed as his foot came in contact with her stomach. Now that she was knocked down, there wasn't much chance for her left and the kick took the wind from her lungs. "You will pay for that, you little whore!" Joffrey's screams faded out as Sansa lost herself in her mind. After a few blows, she barely felt his kicks anymore. When it was clear he was not going to get anymore reaction from her, Joffrey slowed his attacks. He was panting from exertion-obviously not expecting this from her-and finally turned to leave. "You will regret this" he finally snarled before pulling the door open and slamming it behind him.

Sansa stayed on the ground, bloody and bruised, and curled into a ball. The anger had been washed away and now all that was left was crippling misery and grief. Tears were washing down her cheeks and she was choking on her sobs.

She didn't even notice the box a few feet from her, tossed from the counter in her struggle. The hairnet had been dislodged from it's container and a few of the black gems were crushed underfoot.


	35. Chapter 35

Tyrion left his father dreading the conversation he was about to have with Sansa. How could he tell her that her family was gone? That all hope of rescue was crushed by his own father? He knew it would break her and he wished he didn't have to deliver this news. He wished his damned father had never conspired with the Frey's. He wished this gods forsaken war had never started. Wished that Joffrey hadn't cut off Ned Stark's head and started Sansa's misery. He had hoped to give her even a shred of happiness in these past few weeks, but that would all be over now.

As he rounded the corner towards his rooms, he heard a crash. Panic flooded through him and he moved quickly towards the door. Damn his stunted little legs. As he approached, the door was flung open and Tyrion's fears were realized as a disheveled Joffrey stepped out into the hallway. The sight drained the blood from the dwarfs face. Joffrey was straightening his tunic and looked furious.

"You'll pay for that" he heard the boy-king growl as he slammed to door shut. Joffrey turned and met eyes with Tyrion and he felt his own ire rise. He quickly took in Joff's appearance and was pleased to see that while the king looked ruffled, it was not in a way that he would be if he had had to dress quickly. He noticed the scratches on his face and arm and hoped against reason that Sansa didn't look any worse.

"Uncle," Joffrey glowered. "You committed treason today. You and that little bitch. I will punish you both..."

"You will leave here now and you will not return." Tyrion spoke evenly and calmly, but even a halfwit like his nephew could sense the wrath rolling from the dwarf. "If you come near my wife again, I will gut you. Do you understand, your grace? Your mother cannot protect you. Your grandfather cannot protect you. No one in your kingdom can protect you from me. If you _ever_ touch my wife again, I will kill you."

Joffrey sputtered slightly and Tyrion was glad to see fear in his eyes. Without another word he brushed past the boy, leaving him speechless. He meant every word, too. He was done watching Joffrey torment Sansa. Even if they were not married, he would put an end to it. Now that he...now that he cared for her, he would risk the king's ire to keep her safe no matter the cost.

He slammed the door behind him and took a deep breath before venturing further into the rooms. He surveyed the damage that had been wrought to the room with fear dripping down his spine. A chair had been overturned, the table swept of its contents, and the floor was littered with fallen debris. Terrified, he stepped closer to the chaos searching for her, and finally heard a sound. Almost silent sobs were coming from Sansa's vanity and he quickly sidestepped the chair and made his way closer. He finally saw her: his beautiful wife curled in on herself on the floor. Fearful and cautious, he slowly made his way towards her.

Her lovely copper locks were tangled around her face, shielding it from his view. Her dress had been torn from her shoulder, though it looked mostly intact. She looked so small, curled in on herself, shaking with sobs. He was hesitant to touch her, but he bent down once close and pressed a warm palm onto her back. She jumped from the touch, gasping wetly and only pressed her knees closer to her chest.

"Oh Sansa..." he murmured gently, rubbing his palm is slow circles. "Sansa...I'm so sorry..." For one of the only times in his life, he was completely at a loss for words. What could he say to her that could make this any better? What could he say that could possibly help her right now? Orphaned, beaten, and impossibly alone- there was nothing he could give her to ease her pain. However as she unfurled herself and met his eyes he saw endless need. Her face was bruised and blood was seeping from a split on her lip. Her gorgeous blue eyes were bloodshot and swollen, tears and snot were dripping down her lovely face at an alarming rate and she was still choking on sobs as they bubbled up from her throat. She looked utterly defeated and heartbroken and despite wanting to be cautious with her, Tyrion couldn't help himself. He pulled her from the ground wrapped his arms around her shoulders, hugging her to him. He gently stroked his fingers through her disheveled hair and muttered comforting nonsense into her ear.

He was honestly surprised when she relaxed in his arms, leaning her full weight on him as she resumed her crying. He held her tight, feeling equally helpless as she sobbed in his arms. They sat together, silent except for her cries, for hours. Although his arms ached from the strain and his tunic was soaking from her tears, he didn't move. He just held her, trying his best to soothe her. He would stay for as long as she needed.


	36. Chapter 36

The past week had gone by in a blur. After the first few days, her eyes had run out of tears, but now hours would pass without her registering the events around her. Occasionally she would try to pick up a book or her sewing, but would soon find the task forgotten as she stared into space, lost in her memories and sorrow. Tyrion had tried to engage her in conversation a few times as well, but soon learned that she was utterly uninterested in speaking. Sansa wasn't even sure her voice still worked. She had barely spoken a word since that day. It's not that she was mad at her little husband. She was quickly learning that he too considered the king and queen regent to be his enemies and doubted his father consulted him on any of his plans. But she just couldn't find it in herself to speak to anyone right now.

She had actually been unendingly thankful to him for shielding her from any more cruelty. They had received several summons from the king to appear in court, yet Tyrion had thrown them all in the fire. Then there was the one morning where Cersei herself showed up at the door. Sansa had still been abed, but had heard the fierce whispers as Tyrion had denied her entrance. The queen had left in a huff, demanding that they show themselves in court. She had waited for Tyrion to inform her of the royal demands, but he had never spoken of it. Just let her face this on her own time.

Although she remained stoic and shielded each day, that didn't stop her from allowing him to pull her into his embrace each night as they slept. The first night she had considered turning him away from her, not at all eager to allow any Lannister close. But as the tears had fallen and her bruises had throbbed, she was again reminded of her loneliness and how she needed just one person to trust. She was desperate for someone she could be close to. Especially now when her whole family was gone.

Tyrion was her family now. The only family she would ever have. The only hope for a family in the future. She looked over now to where the little dwarf was slaving away on some records, catching the last of the suns rays for the day. He had taken to doing his work in their chambers, much to Bronn and Chella's annoyance. They had grumbled about heaving heavy ledger after heavy ledger to and from their solar, but after seeing Sansa's bleeding face, they had done so quietly. Chella especially was distraught knowing that the moment she had stepped away to take some ale, Sansa had been hurt. Sansa didn't blame her either though. It was unfair to expect her to shadow Sansa for every second of the day. Perhaps in a day or so she could speak to Tyrion about getting some additional protection. Or perhaps...No. She couldn't go to _him._ Not right now. Not yet.

She shook the thoughts from her head and rose from her seat. She made her way towards her husband and placed a gentle hand on the pages he was working through. He glanced up in surprise at her, unused to her approaching him or interacting with him at all. She felt appreciation for him flush through her. He had been so patient with her, allowing her to come to him without any pressure. Wordlessly, she pulled the ledger from his reach and closed it. He watched her as one would a wounded animal. She _was_ a wounded wolf right now and she couldn't blame him for treating her cautiously. She had spent the past week mourning her family alone, now it was time to move forward. Her family was gone. Her father, her mother, her brothers and possibly even her sister were all dead. No one was coming to save her. But perhaps she had a savior already. Someone just as desperate for a true family as she was.

She offered her hand to Tyrion and he took it carefully, letting her lead him to the lounge. He sat and patiently waited for her to tell him what she wanted. She had barely spoken in a week and when her voice came out it was foreign to her.

"Will you read to me, my lord?" she croaked and Tyrion nodded slowly, a semblance of a smile gracing his features.

"Of course, my lady. What would you like to hear?"

"Anything" Sansa shrugged. She just wanted one moment where she could forget everything. One moment where she could just relax with Tyrion. She certainly didn't care about the details.

Tyrion seemed to sense this and nodded, pulling a book of tales from the shelf behind them. "Let me tell you of the Triachs of Volantis. You see, Volantis is ruled by three triarchs all members of the highborn families. They are neither kings nor princes, but are actually chosen by their peers. Some women were chosen as well to lead the city."

Sansa allowed herself to relax on the couch, not really registering the words Tyrion was reading, more just allowing his deep, calm voice wash over her. She curled up, hugging her knees to her chest and allowed a hint of a smile to come over her lips. She would get through this. With Tyrion's help, she would continue to survive.


	37. Chapter 37

Sansa waited patiently as her handmaid tightened the belt around her waist. She glanced in the mirror and was glad to see whatever bruises Joffrey had left had faded. Her skin was once again milky white and flawless. She tilted her face to one side and deemed herself beautiful enough for today. She'd have to have a polished veneer protecting her if she was going to survive her first trip to court after the massacre of her family. She took a deep breath and sent the handmaid a slight smile, dismissing her. Once alone, she fought to keep herself calm. She took a deep breath and tried to pick up her sewing. Tyrion would be there any moment to escort her to the throne room. He had been adamant that it could wait until she was truly ready to face those snakes, not wanting to push her. She had been forever grateful for that mercy as well as the many that he had extended to her the past two weeks. But she knew that Joffrey, the queen, the hand, and all of the court would be less merciful. The longer she shut herself away the worse it would be for her. She managed to get through the days without shedding a single tear now and that had to be enough.

Unable to sit still with her nerves, she put away her embroidery. She didn't want to mar it with half hearted stitches. Margaery's gift was almost complete and she wanted to make sure she was gifting the future queen with perfection. Thinking about her friend made her frown and turn towards the vanity where the broken box lay. Sighing heavily, she set aside her project and observed the splintered wood.

Tyrion had noticed her remorseful glances towards the gift last week and had pried the information out of her. He had immediately sent the hairnet to a jeweler in flea bottom that he swore by. He promised her that it would be repaired in time for the royal wedding. Still, observing the lovely wooden box had Sansa sad that Joffrey's attack had hurt such a precious item to her. Margaery had grown into such a dear friend to her-the only true one in kings landing other than Tyrion, and the hairnet had obviously meant a lot to the future queen. Sansa shook the worries from her head. She had much bigger worries to deal with today and she trusted Tyrion to have the net back, fixed in time. Margaery would never have to know.

The door behind her slammed and Sansa visibly jumped at the sound. She whipped around, panicked. Seeing her small, bashful looking husband did little to calm her racing heart. He cursed under his breath and approached her cautiously. "Sansa, forgive me. The door is heavier than it looks..." She nodded urging herself to relax. She gave him a tight smile before turning back to the mirror for one last check. "Are you sure you're ready for this?" He asked softly, and she met his eyes in the glass. "I can't promise that the king won't say anything to you. In front of the court I can't threaten to geld him..."

Sansa smiled at her courageous friend and shook her head slowly. "I'll have to go back sometime. I've had plenty of time to steel myself for this. I'll be okay. I thank you for your concern." Tyrion rolled his eyes at her courtesies. She knew he hated when she used practiced words with him. She had become much better at speaking freely with him, but in moments like this...times of uncertainty, her old habits flared. Still, the dwarf did not comment on it. He pulled the door open again and held it for her. They walked together towards the throne room, Chella following lazily. Sansa moved gracefully, yet slow enough for her stunted husband to keep up. Tyrion peppered her with idle gossip as they neared court, but Sansa wasn't truly listening. She was mentally preparing for the worst. She was sure that as soon as Joffrey saw her, there would be little said other than the destruction of house Stark. She would have to keep a straight face and nod politely-agreeing that it was a just end to a traitorous family. There could be no tears or even anger today. She must be the ice maiden again. She stole a glance down at the man beside her and sent a prayer to the gods for sending her just one person she could be herself with. She didn't know how she could survive if she were alone.

They approached the heavy set of doors and Tyrion gave her one last glance. One last chance to return to the safety of their rooms. But they couldn't turn back now. She nodded slightly and he pushed them open, revealing them to the gathered courtiers. Instantly, there was a hush throughout the crowd as the lords and ladies took in their appearance. That was soon drowned out by a flurry of hushed whispers. The pair made their way to the balcony, Sansa furiously blocking out the few words that she was able to catch and Tyrion with a grim, determined face.

When they were settled, Sansa felt her husbands hand slip into hers, giving her an encouraging squeeze. She tightened her own hand around his fingers when he tried to pull away and he looked at her with slight surprise. She wasn't truly thinking through her actions and felt a blush rise in her cheeks, but she didn't let him go. She needed him if she was going to get through this. He may not be able to say anything to comfort her, but she couldn't explain how safe she felt with her fingers interlocked with his. His warm skin touching her reminded her that she was not alone. So they stood, together, united against this snake pit.

 **A/N: Alright guys, thank you all so much for your patience. I know it has been forever since I updated and I am sorry. Good and bad news: I just got a promotion at my job. It's great, and I love it, but my free time has been greatly diminished and it has cut deeply into my writing time. I promise I have not abandoned this story and will continue to update, but unfortunately it will be at a slower pace. Thank you all for your support and reviews!**


	38. Chapter 38

It went about as she thought it would. It began as well as it could have, with Joffrey dealing with various issues within his court. While his punishments were as zealous as ever, Sansa had to admit that his new lord hand, Lord Tywin, brought about a certain sophistication that was lacking before. Sansa remembered the time that every appeal had been met with cruelty. Now it seemed as if, although heavy handed, Joffrey was handling court issues much better. Sansa had originally thought it would be Margaery that would temper him, but it seemed as if all the Tyrell's were absent for the day. Still, for every issue that bored him, he would defer to his grandfather. If it wasn't for the constant threat of rape and beheading, Sansa might be prone to admit that with Tywin's influence, Joffrey wouldn't be the WORST king they had ever had. That and the fact that Lord Tywin had orchestrated the murder of her entire family. At least Joffrey seemed inclined to let others deal with issues he seems ignorant of. However, if there was any form of punishment involved, Sansa could see his eyes gleaming all the way from the balcony.

After a half hour of complaints, Joffrey's gaze finally narrowed in on her. She had actually been surprised that her presence went unnoticed until that moment. As if on cue, Joffrey called forth Lancel Lannister, the man who could have been her husband had she taken up Tyrion on his offer. As she watched the preening blonde peacock step forward and provide a flourished bow, she felt bile rise in her throat at the thought. What a nightmare that would have been. Her fingers tightened around Tyrion's, who squeezed in kind. She took a deep breath and prepared herself for what was to come.

"Sir Lancel," Joffrey purred as his cousin was before him. "I would like you to do me a great favor. It has been a few weeks since the end of the traitorous house Stark. Remind us all of their final moments…" His velvety words were the softest he'd spoken that day, and he sent a catlike grin towards Sansa.

As Lancel launched into his animated reenactment, Sansa felt her eyes water. She forced herself to blink away the tears.

" _Focus on something else"_ Tyrion's words from yesterday rang in her head. " _Take yourself away. To somewhere they can't touch you."_ She steeled herself and opened her eyes, centering her gaze on the spot just over Joffrey's head. Luckily, a few days after Joffrey's attack, she had demanded Tyrion tell her the details of her brother and mother's demise. It had been an emotional evening-wrought with violent outbursts and waterfalls of tears, but now she was overwhelmingly glad to hear it from a friendly source. Now, even as the words washed over her, she remained stoic.

She thought of Winterfell. Of a few warmer days in the summer when she and her siblings had stripped of their heavy furs and gone swimming in the hot springs in the godswood. She allowed her mind to wander, recalling how she had only stuck her feet in at first, ever wanting to be the proper little lady. It would be unseemly to throw herself in as Arya had. Then Robb and Jon had splashed her repeatedly, until she had yelled at them for ruining her hair and dove it to splash them back. It had been a lovely memory-one that didn't overwhelm her in pain. It was becoming easier to reminisce about her family. She and Tyrion had stayed up a few times this past week just recalling some of their favorite memories and although there had been a few tears shed, it was much easier being able to mourn them and speak of them to someone with kind ears. Now, even as their violent demise was being spoken about, she felt a faint smile tugging at her lips at the memory of Robb's carefree smile that day in the pools.

Obviously irritated by the lack of response, the king became more and more frantic. Finally, the boy snapped.

"Sansa! Come here!" He called her like one would a dog, but she had to obey. She shook the pleasant memories she had just been lost in away and moved to step away from her protective friend. She could see Tyrion gritting his teeth and was surprised when her little husband followed her. As the stepped down the steps towards the king she chanced a whisper.

"What are you doing?"

"You're not facing him alone. Never again." He hissed just as desperately. Although worried for what was to come, Sansa couldn't help the warmth that washed over her at his words.

They came to the foot of the steps before the throne and sunk into their bows. As Sansa rose, she glanced towards the queen. Cersei looked pale and more haggard than Sansa had ever seen her. Her eyes were frantically darting between her errant son and her icy father. Seeing the queen look as fearful of her son's actions made Sansa herself worry more as she turned to face the king. Joffrey was looking at Tyrion with annoyance.

"Uncle, I didn't expect you in court, you've been absent for so long. It seems like you and your _wife_ have been avoiding us all." He sneered. "Now why would that be? Do you feel it _acceptable_ that you should be allowed to shirk your duties in my court?" His words may have been directed at Tyrion, but his eyes were for now Sansa alone.

Tyrion gave a practiced, courteous response to the king, but Sansa had tuned out all voices as she met eyes with the monster before her. His green gaze bored into her and she could see the cruelty bubbling behind them. How she longed to be on the ramparts again, when Joffrey had forced her to look upon her father's head rotting on a spike. She would gladly push him at this moment. Would glorify in watching him tumble backwards and fall to the ground below. It would be worth her life to see his blonde hair soak up his blood on the paveme-

Another squeeze of her fingers brought her back to the throne room and she glanced down at her husband, who was looking towards her, concern apparent in his mismatched eyes. She painted a smile on her lips then and glanced back up at the king, who was now glaring at the two of them.

"Yes, forgive us, your grace. This newly married life is new to me, I'm afraid. It has been a challenge to balance with our duties elsewhere, though I will be sure to not neglect my responsibilities again. Forgive me, your graces, my lord" She directed towards the royals and the hand. She swept into an elegant curtsey and heard the approving murmurs from the surrounding courtiers. It was all such a mummers show.

Joffrey looked ready to reject her rehearsed apology, but Lord Tywin stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder, stilling his movements. "It is to be expected, my lady." His words may have been forgiving, but his tone was cold and emotionless. His green eyes may have been the same shade as Joffrey's, but they held none of the uncontrollable rage that was constantly threatening to bubble over. No, while Joffrey's were the same as the treacherous wildfire that had engulfed the Blackwater, Tywin's eyes were like frozen chips, always appraising and judging. "However, with the royal wedding on the horizon there will be a number of occasions in which your presence is necessary. I trust that neither of you will be absent again?" He raised his eyebrows at the pair before him and Sansa sent him a winning smile.

"Of course, my lord." she dipped into another shallow curtsy and then turned from the throne. Tyrion followed, though she could see his eyes flash with irritation. Once out of earshot of the courtiers, she sighed in relief. It was over.

"If you don't think you can handle it, we don't have to go to any of those damn family dinners or celebratory receptions" Tyrion gritted out and Sansa pondered over his words. It would be tempting to stay in their rooms unless ordered, but Sansa knew that they had been given as much liberty as they would receive in that regard. So she shook her head and took a deep breath.

"No, no it's alright. It'll be expected of us to be there. You are the king's own uncle. You cannot miss any part of his wedding."

"It's all just a game." Tyrion growled, obviously irritated.

Sansa appraised him for a moment. Even with his short stature and distorted legs, she knew he had a quick mind and was able to withstand all the trials in King's Landing. "If it is a game, then I'm glad you're on my team, my lord."


	39. Chapter 39

Tyrion stretched his neck and felt the bones shift, giving off a noisy popping sound. He sighed heavily and pushed the heavy ledger closed. This damned wedding would be the death of him. He had already been working for hours and it was not even half day yet. And the gods knew he would never get any appreciation for his hard work and thriftiness. Thank the gods it was almost over. He would need a vacation as soon as the royal couple was wedded and bedded, that was for sure. A lengthy one. Perhaps he'd take Sansa to see the world with him. She seemed interested enough in his multiple stories and readings of the free cities, though perhaps more enthralled with the food and clothes and architecture than the history like he was. Still, the thought of seeing her blue eyes brighten as she saw the gates of the red keep being left in the distance made him smile. It was the least he could give her after everything that had happened. He still couldn't believe his luck that instead of pushing him away after her tragedy, she seemed to be allowing him all the closer. It gave him hope that one day they could actually be happy together-with a true marriage.

He would never push her faster than she was ready for, of course. He had accepted she may never think of him that way before he had even gone through with the wedding. But the way her lips would turn up slightly when he glanced towards her... the way her smile was that much brighter in their rooms than he had ever seen it before...the way her body naturally relaxed against his as they laid in bed together...even the few times he thought he had caught a slight blush to those lovely cheeks when he praised her...Yes-they all gave him hope that maybe one day they could be more than just partners thrown together and making the most of it.

He didn't think he'd ever have this opportunity-this chance that someone might actually feel something like this for him. Let alone a beautiful, educated, kind, loving, high born lady like Sansa. Had he not known for certain that his father had none of this in mind when he had forced them together, he might even find it within himself to be grateful to him for arranging it. But he knew that even if Sansa truly hated him and was revolted by the thought of being his wife, his father would not care in the slightest. So it was his lovely wife to who he felt grateful. Grateful beyond belief that she would look past his last name and his stunted body enough to be at least friends with, let alone what he hoped for. It was the least he could do to give her everything that was within his power to give-whether it be gowns, books, protection or escape from this hell she had been living in.

As if on cue, a knock came from the door and Bronn led in a scruffy-looking, sunken-eyed apprentice. Tyrion waved him closer, confused by his presence until his eyes locked on the items in the man's hands.

"Ah! Just in time" He cried with a grin, swinging his legs and hopping down from his perch. The ledgers could burn for all he cared. He reached out for the box and the man quickly handed it over. Tyrion opened the lid and surveyed the glistening hairnet inside. It truly was an elegant piece of jewelry and he could understand why Sansa had been upset that it had been damaged. It looked perfect now, though, and he was pleased he would be able to present it to her in time to wear to the royal wedding on the morrow. He smiled up at the apprentice and waved for Bronn to fetch a coin purse from the desk.

"Fine work, as always" he praised.

"Yes m'lord" the youth said quickly, "Better than before, t' tell the truth. Some of those stones practically crumbled into dust as soon as they were touched! The master replaced them, o' course. They're made of stronger stuff now."

Tyrion nodded absentmindedly, wondering if Margaery knew whatever jeweler she had commissioned had cheated her. "You must send Master Lowell my compliments." He assured the youth, but noticed the man flinch and his own brow furrowed. "Though Lowell usually comes to deliver himself...?"

"I'm 'fraid the master has fallen ill, m'lord...Some coughing fit that seems likely to choke the life right from him..." the boy looked at his feet and Tyrion felt instant pity for him. The poor boy probably depended on his benefactor greatly and must be fearful of his potential demise. He glanced towards Bronn who made a face before dramatically returning to the drawer and withdrawing another heavy, clinking pouch. He tossed it unceremoniously to his dwarf friend who caught it and sent the sell sword a withering look. Turning back to the boy, Tyrion was unsurprised to see tears welling in his eyes.

"Here, boy.." He spoke gently, pushing the extra sack into his palm. "Go to the street of sisters. At the bottom of Visenya's hill there will be a small hut that belongs to Septa Elya. Don't let her sharp tongue deceive you, she's the best there is. Give her this," he gestured to the pouch," and tell her I sent you. After she's finished insulting me, she'll help your master." He winked at the boy who smiled shakily, thanked him profusely and left.

Bronn chuckled behind him once the youth had fled. "You think that old witch will save the man?" Septa Elya had practically saved Tyrion and his brother on multiple occasions and Tyrion did not doubt the woman's healing hands. But whatever gentlness the gods had blessed her fingers with, they had taken it from her mouth. She was a sharp, brittle woman who had instantly disliked Bronn and his dark humour and had chased him out the first time Tyrion had sent him to her. Tyrion had to admit he was surprised that the woman tolerated him, but then again, he always came with a purse full of gold.

"If anyone can help the poor fellow, it'd be her." He opened up the box and surveyed the contents again. The hairpiece was certainly a finely wrought piece of jewelry and Master Lowell had restored it quite flawlessly-perhaps even improved it if the boy was the believed. If the man managed to recover, Tyrion would make sure that he used them for all of the fine gifts he had in store for his wife. Lowell will be one of the most paid jewelers in kings landing if he was in charge of designing for the new Lady of the Rock.

 **A/N: Again, thank you all so much for your patience 3 Next chapter will be the beginning celebrations for the wedding!**


	40. Chapter 40

Sansa was determined to enjoy this day. The weather was absolutely stunning for the event, she was wearing a deep, plum gown of the finest silks, her hair was pulled through the elegant, newly-fixed gift from her friend, and she looked like a true, grown lady. Glancing in the mirror, she couldn't help but see her own mother staring back at her. She was looking more and more like her departed lady mother and she couldn't help the comfort that came with seeing Lady Catelyn's eyes looking at her every time she saw her reflection. Especially today, with her rich, auburn locks arranged into an elegant, yet distinctly northern style incorporated around the hair net. The queen had sent a few handmaids to help Sansa ready herself for today's events, but Tyrion had put his foot down when they had started fussing with her hair.

 _"She's a lady of the north, not some fretting southron who needs to pull thin, brittle hair up in a nest. You will leave it down, wavy, if my lady likes it"_ He had winked at her as the maids had huffed and allowed his fingers to ghost over a thick lock before turning and picking out his own outfit for the day. The gentle touch had so soft she had almost not felt it, but a blush had risen in her cheeks regardless and she couldn't help but stare after him as he sauntered away from her. She had bitten her lip to staunch the heat flooding her face and turned back to the maids, nodding at them to follow their lord's command. And now she looked just like her lady mother. She would truly stand out from all the mousy, pale things here at court. Perhaps with Tyrion at her side, that wouldn't be as terrifying as it was only a few months ago. Joffrey had even left her alone since that day in court.

Still...Tyrion's presence would protect her from most of Joffrey's attacks, but she could tell the boy king still wished her harm. Her only true escape would be leaving King's Landing and putting as much distance as she could between she and Joffrey. She knew that Tyrion was working towards getting permission to take her back to the rock, but there was only one man who could grant that. Only one man who could truly protect her.

So as Tyrion led her towards the family breakfast, Sansa spent the entire trip steeling herself. She listened with only half an ear at his jokes and stories as her eyes narrowed in at the high table where all the Lannister's were seated. Sansa felt a small twinge in her heart that that now included her. Still, she was thankful that she and Tyrion where seated as far as possible from Joffrey, who was nestled smugly between the queen and the hand. Sansa met eyes with the old lion who quickly took in their appearance before glancing away again disinterested. They must look suitable enough for uncle and aunt to the king.

They took their places and within moments, breakfast had been served. Noticing a plate stacked high with lemon cakes placed directly in front of them, Sansa couldn't help but glancing down at her husband, who smiled wryly. Overcome with gratitude at such a small gesture, she laced her fingers with his and squeezed, causing his face to light up. He patted her fingers indulgently before using the moment to steal one of the powdered confections from her plate. She rolled her eyes at his antics before catching the moment she was waiting for.

She watched Tywin stand and make his way from the high table. Not wanting to lose her chance or her nerve, she quickly took a gulp of much needed wine before standing and following him swiftly. She ignored Tyrion's look of confusion as she strode away from him. He would understand once she explained later. If she tried to tell him now, she knew he would only try to convince her otherwise.

Once they were a proper distance from Joffrey or Tyrion she called out to the old lion. "My lord hand?" He turned and she swept into a deep curtsy, one she would offer a king. Truth be told, he was the de facto king here in kings landing and she was sure he would appreciate the deference. It at least seemed to grant her his attention as he turned and looked down at her.

"Lady Sansa" he greeted and she rose, willing herself to stay strong and stand tall.

"My lord, I was hoping to discuss something of importance with you."

Lord Tywin's eyebrow rose in interest and he nodded towards her.

"A...sensitive matter..." She glanced up at the high table and was terrified to see that she had the whole Lannister families attention. Cersei looked murderous, Joffrey looked annoyed and Tyrion's face was etched with concern. Still, the hand snorted slightly before offering his arm, leading her further from their prying eyes and alert ears.

"Now. What is it that I can help you with, Lady Sansa?" his gravelly voice struck fear into her heart, but she swallowed dryly and forced herself to keep her hands from shaking. The last thing she wanted was for him to think her a scared little girl.

"I wanted to ask your assistance, my lord." She started, taking a deep breath. "I do not think I have to waste time informing you of the kings...interest in me..." She almost saw a glint of amusement in the man's eyes, though his face remained unchanged and he nodded. "I believe it in all our best interests if that attention is... diverted." Now Tywin looked away, a bored expression on his face.

"And why would the king's interest be of any concern of mine?" He spoke dully and Sansa fought not to let panic take over her. This was the one man who could truly make Joffrey leave her alone. He had to listen to her! Her mind swam with how to get the lion's attention back.

So she spoke the word that Tyrion had so often drolly repeated. "Legacy." His eyes snapped back to her and she couldn't help the swell of accomplishment. "Sir Jaime cannot wed nor inherit Casterly Rock." She reasoned. "Which means it will be my son who carries on the Lannister name. It would not do for there to be any suspicion as to the legitimacy of my children. Therefore it would be in the interest of house Lannister to protect it's legacy and encourage the king to divert his affections...elsewhere."

A tense moment passed and Sansa held her breath as the Lion of Lannister stared her down before he finally softened his glare and nodded.

"I was planning on sending the two of you to the rock as soon as you announced your pregnancy. My son has been adamant that you need to be removed from the king's notice, but I see waiting until then might be too late. There could be no determining which Lannister fathered the child if it were conceived in King's Landing."

Sansa still held her breath, knowing her fate rested with this decision.

After another thoughtful moment Tywin spoke again. "Once the wedding ceremonies are over, you have my leave to go. I will announce it tomorrow and once you are both packed and a suitable host can be amassed, you will head to Casterly Rock." Sansa sighed in relief, knowing that she would soon be free. She moved to sweep into another curtsy, but the lion's fingers encircled her arm harshly, halting her movement. She met his eyes again and was taken aback by the ice in them.

"But understand this, Lady Sansa. You will have four months of peace before I expect to hear news of an heir on the way. If you are not pregnant by then, you will return here where I will see to it that you carry _any_ Lannister child."

Cold and fearful again, she could nothing but nod wordlessly. Satisfied by his decision, Tywin took her arm again, much more gently, and led her back to the high table where Tyrion was looking on anxiously. He stood to collect her from his father and pulled her chair out to ease her back to her place. He didn't ask her anything, for which she was resoundingly grateful, but she allowed him to take her frozen hands and warm them in his. She pointedly ignored the curious looks from the other occupants of the table and just focused on the comfort her husband was offering her.


	41. Chapter 41

Tyrion kept a close eye on her for the rest of the breakfast, though Sansa couldn't blame him. He seemed willing to let her keep her secrets for now in regards to her conversation with his father, and Sansa was grateful. She would have to tell him eventually of Lord Tywin's conditions on their departure, but it could wait. Sansa took the moment of relief she had received to enjoy the lemon cakes and the gift display in front of her.

The rotund Lord of the Reach was just now presenting a finely wrought golden chalice to Joffrey.

"Your grace, it is my honor to present you with this wedding cup," He placed the enormous goblet on the table in front of Joffrey, who leant forward to inspect it. It was a fine piece, decorated on each side by jeweled representations of the sigils from all the seven kingdoms. Obviously, the Tyrell rose glittered slightly larger than the others, but it seemed as if the ruby lion was also accentuated. Sansa bit a smile down at the sign, knowing that the whole kingdom considered Joffrey a Lannister and not a stag.

"May you and my daughter, Margaery, drink deep and live long!" A polite round of applause rose from the spectators and Lord Tyrell flushed with pride. It was an excellent gift from the bride's father to the groom.

"A handsome goblet, my lord" Joffrey spoke evenly and the most gentle Sansa had ever heard him. "Or, shall I call you father?" Titters broke out at the king's words and Mace turned even pinker.

"I should be honored, your grace..." More applause from the onlookers as Lord Tyrell made his way back to his seat. Sansa caught an approving nod from Tywin towards his grandson. Perhaps the old lion could truly make a difference with the boy.

Tyrion now shifted beside her and pulled himself off his seat, waving to his squire, Pod. Sansa moved to follow him, despite his assurances that he could go alone. But Sansa was not about to have him before the king alone, just as he never allowed her to be. Even in this safe environment, with Joffrey on his best behavior. It just wasn't necessary as long as she was present.

Pod lifted the heavy volume and set in on the table in front of the king as Tyrion and Sansa took their places before him. Tyrion was obviously nervous, anxious to see how the king would receive his gift.

"A book?" Joffrey questioned, not unkindly.

" _The Lives of Four Kings,_ by Grand Maester Kaeth. Histories of the reigns of Daeron the Young Dragon, Baelor the Blessed, Aegon the Unworthy and Daeron the Good." Despite his relationship with nephew, this was a fine gift, one that had been hard to find and more expensive than Sansa thought Tyrion would ever spend on Joffrey. She couldn't help but admire this man she had been married too. He still tried so hard to please his family.

"A book every king should read." Tyrion finished softly, quietly proud of his fine gift. The silence stretched for a moment and the pride faded in Tyrion's eyes. Not able to stop herself, she reached over and placed a hand on her little husband's shoulder.

"Written in the good Maester's own hand," she said encouragingly, beaming up at the king, who regarded her with narrowed eyes. "One of only four copies in the world."

A heartbeat and a glance from his grandfather later, Joffrey took a deep breath and his face relaxed into a gentle smile. "Now that the war is won, we should all find time for wisdom. Thank you uncle, aunt..." he nodded knowingly and placed a hand on the books cover.

Cersei rolled her eyes and drank deeply from her goblet, but Tywin nodded approvingly and then dismissed them with a wave of his hand. Sansa squeezed Tyrion's shoulder and they went back to their seats, feeling relieved that their presentation was over. Another scattering of applause followed them as they returned to their places and Tyrion filled his goblet to the brim. Sansa placed a hand on his back and rubbed comforting circles, sending him an encouraging smile.

"It's over." She whispered gently and he returned her grin. Perhaps this wedding wouldn't be the end of them after all. Especially now that escape was so closely within their grip.

Her attention returned to the presentation as a white cloak stepped forward and unveiled a glittering sword.

"One of only two valerion steel swords in the capitol, your grace" Tywin was speaking, the closest to indulgently that Sansa had ever heard. Today was a day of firsts. "Freshly forged, in your honor." Joffrey's face had split into a wide grin as he pushed his seat back and rushed around the table to get a closer look. He quickly pulled the sword from its golden sheath and twirled it in his hand. The light reflected off the smooth blade and whistled through the air, causing the whole table to jump uneasily. Feeding from the fear in everyone's eyes, Joffrey's grin grew manic. He jumped closer to the table, bringing the sharp steel down hard on the priceless book presented to him moments ago. A large chuck of the corner flew off, sliced easily by the descending blade and papers fluttered into the air. As Joffrey raised his arms, preparing to further the damage, Tywin stood abruptly, glaring at his grandson.

"Your grace." His gravely tone held none of the indulgence it had a moment ago and was now cold and demanding. "You seem to have had an _accident_..."

It was as if ice water had been washed over the whole table as everyone stared, holding their breath. However, even Joffrey in his mania was not immune to Tywin's authority and he had quickly learned since the old lions arrival to obey. The grin had faded from his face and his arms slumped, bringing the blade down without ripping through more of the book. Tywin walked quickly around the table and snatched the blade from the king's hands. "Perhaps this shall stay in my possession until you can handle the responsibility." He hissed in Joffrey's ear just loud enough for the high table to hear, but to leave the masses ignorant. Joffrey's lips turned into a pout and he sent a glare towards Tyrion, as if it were his fault. Finding no weakness in the dwarfs stare, his gaze shifted to Sansa and his lip curled.

She met his gaze fearlessly though. Joffrey could not hurt her anymore. Not with Tyrion's protection and Tywin's promise to send them away. She hated relying on that murderer for her safety, but he was the only one able to control this malicious king. As green locked onto blue, Sansa felt untouchable for the first time. She did not whither under his glare and that only further infuriated him. He relinquished the blade without a fight, but on his way back to his seat he abruptly pushed the damaged book from its place, knocking it to the ground.

He turned back to his seat with a painted on smile and the breakfast went on as if nothing amiss had occurred. After a moment, Sansa stood quietly and made her way to the fallen book. She collected it, with difficulty due to it's weight and motioned to young Podrick. "Take this to our chambers" she whispered, meeting the king's gaze again before speaking a little louder. "Perhaps we can repair what damage has been done from this... _accident_ so that our good king can still benefit from the text within."

Joffrey opened his mouth, prepared to snarl a response to her, but Tywin placed a firm grip on his wrist, halting him. "A grand idea, my lady." He nodded and Pod turned with the book in his arms, but his words held an unsaid warning not to push this any further. His gaze told her that his protection would not cover stupidity and Sansa read it immediately. Besides, there was nothing left to do. The book was on it's way to their chambers and with any luck, it would be on a carriage headed for the rock in a fortnight. Joffrey would never appreciate it, but it would be one of Tyrion's most prized possessions.


	42. Chapter 42

With the breakfast over, there was a few hours to waste before the Lannister family reconvened as one in the sept of Baelor. Joffrey would spend those hours with his mother and grandfather dressing and preparing for the marraige ceremony, but the dwarf and his traitorous wife were deemed unfit to join the king in his preperation. Tyrion was grateful for this small respite and used it to clear his mind of the frustrations the breakfast had filled him with.

Why had he thought that Joffrey would appreciate such a valuable book, he would never know. He knew there was a high likelihood that the treasure could end up unopened and unread, but he never thought it would face destruction in his nephews hands. It had only been Tywin's sternness and Sansa's quick thinking that had saved it. His eyes turned to the lovely woman walking by his side and couldn't help but smile.

The grin was quickly erased by the sniggering of a couple young courtiers as they passed. The two youths were obviously making some jest at his expense as they passed. Their eyes were cruel as they sneered at him and their words, while obscure, hit their mark. Every time he thought he could forget what he looked like, people like those brats reminded him.

Growling lowly under his breath he repeated their names into his memory. "Ser Eldrick Sarsfield and Lord Desmond Crakehall...Ser Eldrick Sarsfield and Lord Desmond Crakehall." he whispered, catching Sansa's attention.

"What are you doing?" She quizzed.

"I have a list."

Now she snorted, breaking his concentration. "A list of people you mean to kill?" she giggled musically at the thought and the anger faded from him.

He looked up at her, grateful that she had never seen him the way those two boys had. Even in Winterfell she had not gawked or laughed at his stature. Ever the perfect, kind maiden-his wife. "For laughing at me?" he scoffed. "Do I look like Joffrey to you? No, death seems a bit extreme.

Fear of death, on the other hand..." he wiggled his eyebrows at her and she smirked, bumping into him gently as they walked.

"You should learn to ignore them." she remarked sagely.

"My lady, people have been laughing at me far longer than they've been laughing at you.

I'm the Halfman, the Demon Monkey, the Imp." He made a face, baring his teeth like the monster they all claimed him to be, but his damsel in distress just pushed him again, laughing at his antics.

"Please, your a _Lannister._ The name itself commands respect.I'm the disgraced daughter of the traitor Ned Stark." She placed a hand on her breast in an exaggerated motion and puffed out her despicable title.

"The disgraced daughter and the demon monkey. We are perfect for each other!"

They both chuckled over the mummery before she seated herself on the garden wall, leaning closer to be of a height with him.

"So how should we punish them?" Tyrion was momentarily transfixed by the conspiratorial, playful glint in her eye, and was at a loss for words.

"Who?...Whom?"

"Ser Eldrick Sarsfield and Lord Desmond Crakehall!"

"Ah...well...Ah. I could speak to Lord Varys and learn their perversions. Anyone named Desmond Crakehall must be a pervert."

She rolled her eyes before smiling down at him affectionately. "I hear that _you're_ a pervert."

"I am the Imp... I have certain standards to maintain." He grinned cheekily, earning another eyeroll from his highborn wife before she chewed on her lip thoughtfully.

"We could sheep shift Lord Desmond's bed." Again, the mischievous look in her eyes was intoxicating, but he shook the inappropriate thoughts from his head and focused on her words. "You cut a little hole in his mattress and you stuff sheep dung inside. Then you sew up the hole and make his bed again. His room will stink, but he won't know where it's coming from."

He couldn't help the laugh that escaped him at her harmless prank. "Lady Sansa!" He feigned shock.

"My sister used to do that to me when she was angry with me. And she was always angry with me..." He had heard quite a lot about little Arya and could only imagine the wild child sneaking into her sister's room to wreak havoc. Another snort escaped him as he nodded thoughtfully. Perhaps it would be quite the fitting punishment...except...

"Why sheep _shift_?"

A hint of confusion swirled in her eyes before she responded with a lowered voice. "It's the vulgar word for _dung_..."

Amused and delighted by her innocence, he couldn't help the smile that came over his face. "Lady Sansa..."

"Well you asked me!"

"Yes...But-"

"Lady Sansa?" A voice interrupted Tyrion's feeble attempt to correct her. They both looked up to see a palace messenger holding a sealed letter. He held it out to his wife who took it and opened it, reading swiftly. A smile broke over her features before she turned to Tyrion.

"Please excuse me, my lord. I am requested in the gardens by an old friend. I will meet you in our chambers shortly?" Tyrion nodded his assent and watched her flounce off. He would find out who it was when she returned, but from her smile it must be someone special. He'd have to ask what she had spoken to her father about as well. It could all wait though.

...

...

Sansa entered the relatively abandoned godswood with a sharp eye, searching for her friend. It had been so long since she had seen her and they had not ended on great terms. If the letter was to be believed, her friend was regretting her departure and was looking to rejoin her service.

"Shae?" she called out and with a rustling of leaves the foreign beauty was before her. "Oh, Shae!" Sansa cried, rushing to embrace the woman. "I have missed you!" The dark haired woman smiled and returned her affections.

"And I you, my lady." Shae spoke softly, her motherly hands ghosting over her hair, hesitating just slightly on the silver finery. "And I am eager to return to your side, but you must listen to me. Tonight, at the feast, I will come for you." The woman spoke in a hushed, but steady voice. Sansa's mind spun at the sudden change in the woman's demeanor.

"What?" She tried to pull away, but Shae only gripped her arms tighter.

"Listen, my lady! You must come with me tonight. I can get you home! Isn't that what you want? I have a way, but you must come away with me." Sansa ceased her struggling, but was still dumbfounded. "Promise me!" Shae was almost frantic and her nails began to bite into Sansa's arms, frightening her.

"Shae, what are you talking about?"

"The Lannister's have trapped you, but I know a way to get you out of the city. Back to your family, Sansa, back to the north. Don't you want that?"

Ice dripped down her spine at the thought. "You are speaking treason! My home is in Kings Landing. The Lannister's are my family now..."

Shae's face contorted in fury. "They are not your family!" she snapped. "That little monster doesn't care about you! They are using you! Can't you see? He's a horrible man who will ruin your innocence and steal your inheritance!" Sansa felt heat flood through her cheeks at Shae's ravings.

"You know nothing about Lord Tyrion!" She gasped angrily. But Shae was shaking her head emphatically.

"I do, My lady. Trust me, I know everything about the little lion..." Her weighted words hung heavily between them as Sansa processed them.

"You-You and he..."

"Yes. I loved him, but he used me, my lady and when he was done with me he cast me off. Do not let them do the same to you..." Hot tears bubbled in her eyes at the thought and she couldn't stop them from falling. Could it be that he was still visiting whores? Could be betraying her that way? He had promised that he had stopped...Shae said she loved him...could he be in love with another?

"Shush...shush, my lady. We have but one chance to escape...promise me you will come away when I come to you tonight. Promise me!" Her words barely cut through the fog Sansa was now in, but her nails pinched again.

"I promise!" Sansa cried, more to make the woman let her go. She didn't know what to say to this. She couldn't stop her mind from spinning at this information.

"Good, good..." the woman seemed appeased. "But you can tell no one. That little monster will do whatever it takes to keep you. We have the one chance, my lady. They will all be preoccupied by the feast. We can escape! I know the way!"

Sansa nodded hesitatingly, wiping the tears from her eyes.

"I will come for you. Be ready." And with that, the woman turned and disappeared into the trees.

Shaken to her core, Sansa stared after her before making her way back to her chambers.

 **A/N: Thank everyone for their patience. I actually tried to post that last chapter a few days ago, but the website was malfunctioning a little. Either way, here's two chapters for you! Enjoy and please review!**


	43. Chapter 43

As Sansa climbed the steps back to the Red Keep, her mind spun.

Tyrion and Shae... They had been...intimate with each other. She had been in love with him. He had at least cared for her-if not loved her back. Shae had been a...whore...for the man Sansa had just married...Gods, who knew how long they had carried on. And Shae had said Tyrion had sent her away...it couldn't possibly have been for Sansa-Shae had disappeared long before their union was announced. Could it have been for someone else? Could Tyrion have a...a whore that Sansa didn't know about? Is that why he was so patient with Sansa consummating their marriage? Because he already had someone fulfilling his needs? Did he care for this mystery woman? Did he love her?

She couldn't help but stagger at the thought, causing what few wedding guests that had ventured into the gardens to look at her sideways. But Sansa couldn't find it within her to care. Her mind was much too preoccupied to worry about what she looked like at the moment.

But then why did she care so much? If Tyrion truly...was in love... with another, someone who was taking care of his physical needs yet not interfering with their sham of a marriage, why should she care? She had certainly not known of Shae and she had never heard a whisper of another woman being kept at court by her husband.

So why should she care if he kept a mistress as long as he kept it quiet. As long as it brought no shame to her. Why should she care if he was in love with someone. Why...why should she care at all?

Yet as she stumbled through the keep, she realized her face was wet with tears. She did care. She didn't want some hollow, loveless marriage. She didn't want to be constantly watching her husband's interactions wondering which woman who held his attention. She didn't want to have any woman satisfy him more than she did. Didn't want his smile directed at anyone other than her.

She wanted him to love her. Needed her little husband that she had come to rely on and care for to love her like she had always dreamed her husband would. Wanted him to look at her with those mismatched eyes of his filled with longing and kindness. She longed to escape from this hell that was the capital with Tyrion at her side to guide her as she stumbled into adulthood. She had been alone ever since her father had lost his head on the steps of Baelor and she didn't want to lose the only person who made her loneliness fade away. He was her last chance at having a family and she wanted his love more than anything. They were on the edge of freedom and she had been eager to see how their relationship would progress without the ever looming threat of Joffrey hanging over them. She was ready to trust him. But how could she if he had someone else that held his heart? Perhaps Shae could spirit her away from this place...

As she stumbled through the keep aimlessly, hesitant to see Tyrion's face quite yet, she was stopped abruptly by someone calling her name from behind her. Instantly, her foggy mind cleared and she wiped the tears from her face as subtly as possible before turning to greet whoever it was searching for her, slipping her mask back on. She sank into a curtsy when she recognized Jaime Lannister approaching her.

The kingslayer had returned to kings landing about a week ago yet Sansa had not seen him. Still, she was glad to be warned by Tyrion about the gallant knight's loss of his sword hand. She forced her gaze not to linger on the golden replacement and to meet his eyes, hoping he wouldn't notice the redness surrounding hers.

"Sir Jaime" she murmured smoothly, glad that her voice did not shake. "We missed you at the breakfast."

He smirked at her courtesies and then shrugged slightly, the essence of nonchalance. "Didn't care much for the show" he said, waving the idea away with the glinting golden hand. "Your piece of pageantry though, was rather impressive." Now he was eyeing her pointedly and she squirmed under his gaze.

"I do not know of what you speak..." she said vaguely. But he chuckled lightly.

"You and my brother were quite the pair, shining with blinding happiness. Tell me, Lady Sansa, how do you find your marriage?" Sansa couldn't help but bristle slightly under his mocking, sarcastic tone.

"I love my husband with all my heart" she parroted off, hating that it reminded her so much of the declarations of love she always spoke for Joffrey. She was coming to care for and respect Tyrion, very much so, but that was not good enough under this harsh interrogation. Her words did not have their desired effect though as Jaime Lannister's eyes only narrowed with snide amusement. In that moment he had never looked more like his golden twin. Like a cat cornering a mouse.

"Do you now, my lady? You would not...say...jump at the opportunity to go home?" He stepped ever closer to her, his voice dripping with dangerous seduction. Sansa couldn't help freezing as the man brushed a lock of her hair over her shoulder and leant in even closer until his lips were next to her ear. "I promised your mother I would help you. Say the word and I will send you north..."

Sansa felt fear crackle through her, but she couldn't help the anger that came with it. First of all, how come the second escape is in her sight, everyone now wants to whisk her away? First Shae, now the kingslayer?

Before she could school her response to something acceptable, she was already replying hotly. "And just where would you send me, my lord? Winterfell has burnt and my family is dead. Are you suggesting to ship me to the ruins? Or perhaps a family reunion is more in line with what you're thinking. Tell me, _Sir,_ will you send me to the seven hells yourself?" Her own words and tone surprised herself, but with the emotions that had already been swirling in her, she couldn't stop the words from flowing freely.

The seductive grin was promptly wiped from the knights face at her anger, but the amusement was still evident in his eyes and he chuckled as he stepped away from her, his hands raised as if in surrender. "It seems my brother has wrangled himself a she-wolf indeed" he said quietly before gaining his composure. "I only meant...if you wish to escape my brother and my sister and my father and my...nephew and the whole lot of them, I will help you. I've heard of the troubles the king has put you through and the seven knows Tyrion cannot be the husband a pretty little thing like you could hope for.."

Again, Sansa felt herself bristle in anger. "You know nothing of what I hope for," she snarled in a hushed whisper, unable to rear back her tongue now that it was unleashed. "I used to hope to be Joffrey's queen, yet now I do not envy the Lady Margaery! I want a man who will protect me and treat me with honor and respect-something the rest of the Lannister family is clearly incapable of! How Tyrion was born into your family is a mystery to me!" It was like all the transgressions she had been dwelling on just moments ago was washed away in her anger over Jaime's unfair words. She didn't know how the kingslayer had managed to irritate her to the point of breaking so quickly, but now there was no going back. Jaime's face had lost all hints of mirth and now he just stared at her in shock and wonderment.

Suddenly the words and treason she was speaking caught up to her. She took a deep breath and tried furiously to calm herself. "Tyrion will take me from this place and protect me. I have no need of your help, Sir Jaime." She turned on her heel and stormed away from him, now walking directly to her chambers with purpose.

She didn't even catch the words the Lannister knight muttered as she left.

"A gallant knight after all..."


	44. Chapter 44

She had just turned the corner in her frenzy and was immediately caught off balance as she ran headfirst into the man she was rushing towards. Knocked off balance, she swayed on her feet and would have fallen if not for his warm hand clutching onto hers, pulling her upright.

"Careful, Sansa!" he chuckled once she was steady. "I don't think my father would believe me if I told him we'd have to skip the wedding ceremony because you fell, regardless to the truth of it!" Sansa opened her mouth to respond, but could think of absolutely nothing to say. She found herself at a complete loss for words despite practically running towards him. Now that he was before her, her mind was blank. How on earth was she to speak with him about what had just happened? How was she to ask him about Shae? Or speak of his brother's daring offer? No, she couldn't quite find the words she needed to say and so she just stared blankly at the man who had come to mean so much to her.

If she brought up his relationship with Shae, or any other woman, she risked him telling her that it was true. That he loved another and that their sham of a marriage was even more hollow that she had thought. Or if she told him about Sir Jaime's promise of freedom. What if he recommended that she do it? That she flee the capitol to what would certainly be her demise. She didn't know how she could take that. So she remained silent.

"Sansa, are you alright?" he was not stupid. He could clearly see that she was upset about something. Still, she couldn't find it within her to tell him the truth. She couldn't risk it. The look of concern that was etched into his face looked so genuine. She couldn't take seeing it fade away. His hand which had reached out so quickly to steady her now gently caressed her fingers, imploring her to calm.

For the first time in a long time, Sansa felt her old mask slipping into place. "I am quite well, my lord." she spoke in an empty tone and forced a feigned smile to her lips. "The ceremony will be starting soon. Shall we?" she offered him her arm and he took it cautiously. He was better at reading her than most, but seemed at least unwilling to force her to speak when she was not ready. Even in the haze she was fighting through, she was grateful for that small mercy.

He led her gently through the keep, leaving her mind to work. They made their way down to the courtyard and were loaded into the carriage that was to take them to the sept of Baelor. The streets had been lined with guards, yet Sansa's pulse quickened at the memory of the last time she had been traveling through King's Landing and the chaos that had almost taken her life. Still, she gazed out the narrow slats that opened up to reveal the same, dirty, poverty stricken city. Gods, she was ready to leave this whole world behind. But did she want to leave smuggled out of the city by Shae's friends? With the king slayers protection? Or with the lord sat across from her. Her life would forever be tied to the Lannisters if she left with Tyrion, but it would be secure. She knew he would never let his family truly hurt her if it was within his power. But how much could he really protect her from Tywin's threats?

Her gaze swept to Tyrion, who had yet to push her to reveal her troubles. He was also looking out over the city and Sansa wondered what he was thinking. His deep, mismatched eyes held a certain longing as he gazed out of the window and Sansa couldn't help but be mesmerized by him. There was so much compassion and strength in her little husband. He caught her looking at him and sent her an encouraging smile. Heat flooded through her cheeks at being caught, but his smile was infectious and she couldn't help but return it.

In a short time they were unloaded at the sept and Sansa made her way with Tyrion into the audience. Joffrey and Cersei had deemed them unimportant enough to shove into the middle of the crowd, denied their place up front with the family, but neither Sansa nor Tyrion were complaining. They settled into their places and watched dispassionately as Joffrey made his way to the pulpit.

The king was dressed richly in reds and golds and it struck Sansa as odd to see a Baratheon king decked out as a Lannister. But then Joffrey had always been more Lannister than Baratheon. Hells, as she gazed at him now, surrounded by the roaring lions that decorated the sept, she couldn't see even the slightest semblance of the man who had been her father's friend. He looked just like Cersei.

The ceremony went off without incident as the beautiful Margaery was brought forward by her father. Margaery's gown was a lovely creation, flowing with roses constructed in silk and golden metalwork. It was a much finer gown than Sansa's own wedding dress and for a moment, Sansa envisioned herself dressed as the winter maid she should have been meeting her betrothed beneath the heart tree in Winterfell's godswood.

It was a daydream she was used to having. It would have just snowed, her footsteps would have broken the freshly fallen snow as she made her way to her husband. Her red hair would have been wild behind her and her gown would have been adorned with pure-white furs to protect her against the cold. She felt her lips curve into a smile as Joffrey and Margaery proclaimed their love, but it was only for the image in her head. Of her beloved father reluctantly letting her go, her mother smiling indulgently front the front row. As Joffrey leaned to kiss his new bride, dream Sansa also turned to her husband and she was surprised that her mind did not give her the faceless lord the daydream usually did. It was Tyrion, dressed heavily in furs, smiling at her like she was an angel brought to earth. Sansa stood, frozen in shock as the daydream advanced, her and Tyrion clasped hands and recited their vows. Their words were spoken much more passionately than during their real wedding and when she bent down to press her lips to his...

"Sansa?" Tyrion whispered worriedly, breaking her out of her vision. The whole sept had burst into applause as the King presented his new wife and queen, yet she had stood, lost in her dreams. A blush flooded her cheeks and she quickly joined the crowd in congratulating the couple.

"We have a new queen" she said, more to ease his concern for her than anything else. He chuckled darkly before squeezing her fingers.

"Better her than you."

As the crowd made their way back to the keep for the wedding feast, Sansa couldn't help but picture her dream wedding and the husband her mind had chosen for her again and again. She hardly noticed when Tyrion was called away by his brother until he had squeezed her hand again. "I'll be right back, Sansa" he whispered comfortingly before leaving her alone.

Sansa took the moment to take herself away from the crowds and into the garden. She looked out over Blackwater Bay and gathered her thoughts. She had been in a haze since Shae had revealed the truth to her, but things were shifting into clarity for her now.

She realized something. She needed Tyrion. She wanted him. Wanted him to love her just as she wanted to love him. Just how she might already love him. She didn't care about his history or his name, didn't care about his stature. He was kind and gentle to her. Brave and strong like men twice his size were not. He never failed to bring a smile to her face even in this hell she was living in. She had prayed for a handsome king, yet the gods had seen fit to give her exactly what she needed in Tyrion. She was not a child anymore. She knew that a pretty face would not give her what she needed.

She turned at the sound of footsteps coming near her and found Tyrion approaching her with a curious look on his face. Her mind which had been spinning since this afternoon slammed to a halt at the sight of him. Her revelation coursed through every fiber of her being.

She didn't want to go with Shae.

She didn't want Jaime Lannister to take her home.

She wanted him. Only him.

She quickly knelt down to his level, startling him.

"Sansa, are you alright?" he reached for her hands, his eyes filled with concern and her own hands reached for him as well. They tangled in his shortly cropped, soft blonde curls, pulling his face closer to her and his surprised gasp was cut off by her lips sealing themselves onto his.


	45. Chapter 45

**A/N: Please forgive any spelling/grammar mistakes-I wrote this so quickly and wanted to put it out as soon as possible! Sorry for the delay! Enjoy~**

Something was most certainly wrong with her. As Tyrion rode in the carriage towards the royal wedding he couldn't help but review what he could have possibly done to offend his wife. Sansa had barely spoke one word to him since the breakfast. He glanced towards her and caught her observing him. He tried to send her a small smile, and for a moment she returned it before abruptly turning away from him again. Tyrion sighed dejectedly, but was determined to not push her to speak before she was ready.

His mind battled back and forth, trying to come up with a reason for the iciness. Was it the royal wedding? He knew a young girl like Sansa must have always dreamed of a wedding like this-crowds gathering to shout her name, the sept decorated lavishly, making her way to seal herself to her beloved, handsome betrothed. How disappointed she must have been in her own wedding...in her own bridegroom.

He tried to shake the disappointing thought from his head, but it would always pop up at the worst times. He knew he was not the man that Sansa had always dreamed of, but he held high hopes that perhaps she would be able to look past his stunted figure and his horrible family and perhaps see his worth. One day. He would spend every moment of their marriage trying to convince her otherwise if he had to. He would never let anyone hurt her. He may not look the dashing white knight, but he was more than ready to cherish her and protect her from any danger.

Still, he wondered if seeing the future she had dreamed of as a little girl come to fruition for another laid bitterly on her. He couldn't find it within himself to begrudge her that, so they rode in awkward silence.

The ceremony itself passed without issue, yet Tyrion could not shake the worry from his mind. Sansa was moving like she was in a fog, completely unaware of her surroundings. As Joffrey kissed his lovely bride and the hall erupted in applause, he caught Sansa's dazed, empty expression and couldn't help but reach out to her.

"Sansa?"

Immediately, her face swiveled down to face him and the watery, vacant expression did nothing to alleviate his worries. Still, she gave him a weak smile and joined in to well wishes for Joffrey and Margaery.

"We have a new queen..." The bite in her tone was not lost on him and he now knew he was foolish to think she would ever wish to be in Margaery's place. Not after what Joffrey had put her through. Still, the pageantry was something she might have wanted.

"Better her than you." Margaery seemed the sort that would be able to manipulate Joffrey and the court in a way that his sweet, innocent wife would never be able to do. Her family's cooperation was necessary for peace in the realm and that alone would protect the rose from Joffrey's more violent tendencies. Tyrion knew that it would not quell the king's nature though. Margaery would certainly not have a joyful marriage, but then the ambitious girl probably wouldn't mind a few bruises if it meant she was granted the power the crown would give her. Sweet Sansa was entirely different from the woman who took her place.

She was kind and gentle from her soul. A young woman who wanted nothing more than to be happy with a husband and children who loved her. She was clever and intelligent, there was no question, and he was sure she would have been able to adapt as she was always able to do, but she was far kinder and less ambitious than the new Tyrell queen. Whereas Sansa had been raised to be honest and loving, Margaery had been born and bred to pull strings and manipulate. To achieve all that she had now achieved. As the beautiful woman passed the pair, wedded and crowned, Tyrion sent a prayer to the gods for protecting Sansa from the fate Margaery would dance around for the rest of her days.

They followed the crowd towards the wedding feast, and Tyrion couldn't help but worry for his wife. She still seemed so bothered and weighed down by some unknown plague. He wished she would speak with him, let him know what bothered her so that he could help shoulder her burden. But he knew Sansa by now and knew that pressuring his northern beauty would only make her retreat further from him. He must be patient and allow her to come to him in her own time. No matter how frustrating.

He was almost relieved when halfway finished with the awkward walk back, Jaime called out to him. "I'll be right back" he reassured her and waddled towards his brother.

Jaime had been back in the capital only a week or so, yet Tyrion had already seen a major change in him. The once sparkling, confident, cocky knight had been brought low in his captivity with the Young Wolf and his journey back. The gleaming golden hand that Jaime wielded awkwardly was a daily reminder of what the knight once was...and how far he'd fallen. Although Tyrion sympathized with his brother greatly, he couldn't help but be slightly resentful at the attitude Jamie was exhibiting at the loss. Even without his sword arm, Jaime was still handsome and well-built. Despite not being the same threat he used to be, he still commanded respect from those at court in a way Tyrion never would. Still, as he approached his brother, he shook such thoughts away.

"So the Tyrell rose is now our queen. How long do you think that pretty smile will last?" Jamie asked conversationally as they watched the royal pair continue on their way.

"I'm sure it will be dampened by morning." Tyrion mused, not wanting to think about how Joffrey would treat the girl once they were alone. "But she seems happy enough for the title." The brothers strolled away from the crowds and Tyrion lowered his voice. "And Joffrey needs to at least keep her father happy if we are to keep this alliance. Perhaps it will not be as bad as all that. She seems able to manipulate him so far." As if on cue, Margaery's musical laugh fluttered towards them and they could see her with her arms linked through Joffrey's as they walked together gaily.

"Unlike your own wife?" Tyrion's eyes shot to his brothers at the curious tone.

"What about my wife?" he growled in warning.

"I'm just saying, she doesn't seem capable of manipulating anyone" Jaime's chuckle unnerved him and he did not appreciate the insult.

"Lady Sansa is more intelligent than you think, _brother._ Need I remind you, she survived Joffrey for months since you left. And she didn't have the protection of her family. Besides, since when have you spoken to her for more than a moment?" for just a flash, he pictured his handsome brother wrapping his arms around Sansa's shoulders, holding her in a way she must crave. In a way she never would be with her present husband. Irritation and jealously surged through him, but he tamped it down. He trust her and he trusted Jaime. Neither would betray him in such a way.

Jaime only barked in good-natured humor. "God's I can't help but offend everyone today! I only meant your wife is too sweet. Too gentle to thrive in this snake pit. I'm sure she's wildly intelligent, Tyrion, but the girl wears her heart on her sleeve!"

Tyrion just stared at him. "What on earth are you talking about? Sansa is as guarded as they come. She's had to be with what she's been dealt."

Jaime only looked thoughtful. "Well when I spoke with her she was quite the open book. I wanted to know how she felt about you and it barely took any teasing before she was practically spitting fire at me for insulting you."

Tyrion raised his eyebrow in both confusion and amusement. "Insulting me, huh?" He knew his brother respected him and refused to let anyone (except their sister) say a bad word. How many times had the golden knight fought for Tyrion's honor? If he was going to insult him, and then be so open about it, there must have been a reason. Still, Sansa reacting so strongly was so out of character.

"Oh stop. I wanted to make sure you didn't have some lying, cheating whore in your bed. Or at least wanted to make sure you knew how she felt. I even offered to take her home..."

At that, Tyrion locked eyes with Jaime surprised. Whenever any lady had shown any interest in Tyrion at all during their childhood, Jamie had always tried to seduce them-if only to expose them for the power-hungry liars that they were. Each lady had fallen immediately for their brother, spouting out the truth-that they had only been interested in the Lannister gold. But while Jaime's seduction had always included whispered promises, none were so direct as an offer to help Sansa escape.

"That was cruel, brother." Tyrion said flatly, trying desperately not to snap at him. "To dangle that in front of her, for any reason. It's cruel even for you."

He had expected Jaime to act chastised, but the look of actual guilt that swept over his features put dread in his heart.

"It wasn't just a ploy...you were really going to take her?" he guessed and at Jaime's glance away from him, fire erupted once more. "You were going to steal my bride. Regardless to how I felt. How I feel. You were going to take her away from me." He seethed.

"I promised her mother...When Catelyn Stark released me it was a deal. In return for her daughters. We've lost the one, she's probably dead. I felt that the least I could do was get Sansa north..."

"North where? Catelyn Stark is dead! Robb Stark is dead! You would have sent my wife to her death, Jaime."

"As she was quick to point out to me. I'm sorry, Tyrion, I truly am, but I thought if this little girl you were tied to hated you, it would be in your best interest to have her shipped away! To send her home and forget her. But how wrong I was. About the both of you."

Despite Tyrion's anger, he couldn't help but be curious of his brother's words. "What do you mean?" he spat.

"That she loves you. And you love her. That she just might deserve you-and I've not thought so of a woman in your life. When she came at me for saying anything negative about you, it was like a she-wolf protecting her pack. She's fearsome and beautiful and clearly in love with you. I had thought to whisk her away, but now I know she does not want to leave. Hells, she practically spat in my face when I offered it. She said you would treat her with honor and respect- something the rest of our family was incapable of. You should have seen the fire in her eyes. It was enough to convince me. Please, forgive me Tyrion. I only want you to be happy. After father and...Cersei. After all the lying whores in this world, you deserve someone who truly loves you. I promise, now that I know she does, I will not try to take her from you."

Tyrion's mind was spinning. It was impossible. A girl like Sansa... a _woman_ like Sansa couldn't possibly think that way about him. He was stunted and broken and ugly. He had satisfied himself with the knowledge that she didn't hate him. That he even liked his company. Jaime must be confused-there is no way that her feelings could possibly go beyond fondness. She was just kind enough and smart enough to not jump at Jaime's offer. There was no way...

Tyrion turned from his brother, closing his eyes to keep the hope from bubbling up inside him. "You're wrong..." he muttered as he stepped away, raising him hands to fend away any argument. He didn't even want to think of the possibility. It would only cause the disappointment to be that much worse when he saw the pity in her eyes if he were to ever ask her. No, they would be friends. Perhaps one day they would start a family together, but love? Love was out of the question. He couldn't dare hope for love.

He stumbled away from his brother, refusing to hear another word. He sought out the woman in question, refusing to let his heart soar at the possibility. He couldn't let himself hope.

He finally caught sight of her back, overlooking the bay and approached, shaking all thoughts from his head and focusing on whatever it had been that was worrying her. It was probably Jaime's offer that was weighing on her mind so heavily. Yet when he called her name and she turned, there was a wildness in her eyes. A wild, untamed fear. They calmed only slightly when seeing him, but anxiety and something indeterminable was still so deeply etched on her face he couldn't help the worry that coursed through him and brought him closer to her. When he was that much closer, she collapsed, her knees giving way and Tyrion gasped, reaching at once to catch her.

Yet when his eyes met hers, he at once recognized what was swirling in them.

Hunger- desperate and all consuming hunger. For him.

And with that last epiphany, her lips locked onto his.


	46. Chapter 46

Sansa couldn't believe it. Her lips were pressed firmly onto her husband's...onto Tyrion's. When she had seen him walking towards her moments ago it was as if her mind had stopped working-as if everything in that moment made sense to her and her body had moved on it's own. Now she was lowered to his level, hands twisted in soft, blonde curls and her mouth was sealed to his. This kiss was nothing like the one they shared their wedding day in the sept. Though his lips were just as warm and the sweet smell of him still took over her senses, there was nothing cold and detached of the way she had wrapped herself around him. Sansa, however, had no idea what she was doing. Having him so close and pressing herself ever closer had a deep, almost painful (though not so unpleasurable) thudding spreading through her, and she could feel her cheeks flooding with heat.

Yet he had not moved. He was not responding to her.

Instantly self conscious and terrified that she had thrown herself at him when he had not wanted her, she jerked away. Yet his own hands struck out like a viper and pulled her back to him, wrapping gently in her long hair. If the original kiss had her burning, this one truly set her aflame as his lips worked with hers. Equally passionate yet tender and gentle, when he finally released her, the heat in her cheeks was so intense she could barely breathe. Panting and hazy, she met his eyes and found them darkened. She had originally been crouching down, yet in his ministrations she had fallen to her knees. In any other situation, she would have never been caught in public off her feet, yet even though they were only a few hedges away from the rest of court, she couldn't find it within herself to care. She had blocked off this desire and want for months and the dam had finally broken. She didn't want to close herself off to him anymore. She pitched forward, burying her red face in his shoulder and wrapping her arms around his neck. Although she could tell he was still shocked, his arms didn't hesitate in wrapping around her as well as he held her. They both sat there, hidden by the trees from watching eyes, yet out in the open holding each other as the fire inside them subsided.

He didn't say anything, just ran his fingers through her styled hair in a way that was overwhelmingly comforting. She snorted slightly, realizing that he had held her almost just like this when she had been distraught or hurt and here he was in the same position calming her again. Yet calming her from the fire that was burning her from the inside for him. The irony was amusing. She could feel his own features quirking up into a smile as he pulled only slightly from her to meet her eyes.

"Sansa...?" She righted herself, though still kneeling to his level and finally truly looked him in the eye.

"Forgive me, my lord. That was not...ladylike..." she looked away, another blush rising as reality set in. She had practically jumped him. She quickly surveyed the gardens, glad to not see any lingering wedding guests. His chuckle had her gaze returning to his face.

"No, I don't suppose it was" his cheeky grin was infectious, but she still slapped him gently on the arm in mock indignation. He flinched from her beating, laughing again before taking her face in his hands, gently cradling her and making her meet his eyes which had suddenly became serious. "Do not apologize, Sansa. For any of that. Please. I just want to make sure...I just want to know that you are alright."

Feeling better than she had since watching her father beheaded, she couldn't help but smile at him, tears of relief filling her eyes.

"I am alright, my lord. I think everything is going to be just fine." She stood and brushed the creases from her gown. Another quick sweep of the gardens confirmed that her loss of control was not observed by any spying courtiers. She glanced down at her husband who was staring out over the waters, one hand absentmindedly pressed to the lips that she had just been kissing. Another blush bloomed in her cheeks at the memory, but she tamped down her embarrassment. Everything would be just fine.

She stretched out her hand and he took it immediately, intertwining their fingers. He pressed a quick kiss to the back of her hand and they made their way towards the wedding feast, each feeling lighter than they had in months.

 **A/N: Thank you guys so much for your patience! I know this one took a while to come out and it's a little short, but I had some writers block for a little while and had to lay out where I wanted to take this story. I have certainly not abandoned it and hope you guys forgive me for the delay. Enjoy!**


	47. Chapter 47

**A/N: A bit of a longer chapter-Enjoy!**

The couple made their way towards the crowd and Sansa felt (for the first time) that she might even enjoy the wedding feast. With the whole Tyrell family present, Joffrey was sure to behave and although they were seated on the main dais, they were the farthest they could be from the newlyweds. And Tyrion would be beside her the whole time.

She glanced down at her fingers, tightly intertwined with his as he led her through the gathering courtiers and wedding guests to their seats. She gently squeezed his hand, rewarded with a quick, distracted smile from him, and thought to herself that she would never again face any danger without him. He would save her from Joffrey, save her from Cersei, and save her from King's Landing. After the wedding feast, they would travel to the Rock and she trusted that he would never allow anyone, even Tywin Lannister, to drag her back.

They took their places on the dais as the wedding feast began. Sansa couldn't help but smile pityingly at Margaery, who was making quite the show of an adoring bride. She was beautiful, it was true, with her chestnut hair piled in curls and a thorny crown resting in the nest. Her lovely blue eyes were dancing as she smiled at her bridegroom. Joffrey, with a complementing crown, grinned back at her as they tasted the first dish of many. His eyes were only for her, and for that Sansa was glad. Perhaps Margaery would be able to hold his attention and keep him from his most brutal tendencies. Sansa would never have been able to do it. She didn't have it within her to play him like Margaery did and without a strong, allied family to back her, she never had a chance. However much Sansa may have adored him in the beginning, she had failed at hiding her disgust once she had seen him in truth. She sent a prayer to the mother and the maiden to protect Margaery against the worst of her husband. But Lord Tyrell and Lady Olenna would help her-that much Sansa knew.

As if on cue with her thoughts, the queen of thrones was coming around the table just then, a motherly smile on her face.

"You look exquisite, child!" she exclaimed as she approached taking in Sansa's gown. The plum-colored fabric was fine and lovely, but nothing compared the the bright beauty of Olenna's, not even to say Margaery's wedding gown. But it did well for a member of the royal family, however out of favor they were. "The wind's been at you, though." The old woman's hands reached out to correct her hair and Sansa felt herself blushing, knowing it was not the wind, but Tyrion's hands that had pulled the strands from their perfect styling. She closed her eyes slightly though at Olenna's ministrations. It had been so long since she had felt a mother's hands on her and for just a moment she was transported to Winterfell, with Catelyn Stark's hands running through the copper locks.

"I haven't had the opportunity to tell you how sorry I was to hear about your brother..." Olenna's voice was uncharacteristically low as she rearranged the braids in Sansa's hair. "War is war but...killing a man at a wedding? Horrid." Sansa steeled herself to keep her eyes from watering as she gazed up, thankful for the woman's kind words. It was more than she would get from any other, save her husband. "What sort of monster would do such a thing?" They both studiously kept their eyes from the very man who had ordered the slaughter, not three chairs from them. "As if men need more reason to fear marriage!" she exclaimed, louder this time. "Lord Tyrion!" she called, waving her arms to the crowd and entertainment "You see? Not as bad as all that!" Sansa bit her smile away at the teasing, knowing Tyrion had slaved over the exorbitant price of the festivities before them.

Although Olenna made it seem as if it was a modest affair, the scene before them was anything but. Table after table was set up, hosting the hundreds of wedding guests. Each table was set to the brim of decadent fruits, meats, and wine and above them all were strips of dyed silks, fluttering in the wind. Performers entertained guests in between the tables. Eloquent dancers bent their bodies into twists and men were breathing fire like dragons. It must have all cost a fortune.

"If your pauper husband were to sell his mule and his last pair of shoes, he might be able to afford a trip to Highgarden for a visit!" Tyrion reached past Sansa to pour himself a very full cup of wine and Sansa even let out a small giggle as the woman continued to smooth her hair. Lady Olenna was truly a treat as long as her barbed words were not directed at her. "Now that peace has come and all is right in the world it would do you good to see some... of..." but her words died in her throat and her fingers stilled in a moment. Sansa glanced up at the woman's face, seeing worry in her eyes and a paleness that had not been there moments before. The woman quickly met her eyes and Sansa was surprised to see what looked like anger swirling in them.

"Lady Olenna?" She asked, concerned. "Are you alright?" She reached up a hand to hold Olenna's still resting on Sansa's hair, but the old woman snatched it away, still staring into Sansa's eyes before the look was gone and a weak smile replaced it.

"Yes..." she said quietly. "Yes, yes, all is well. Forgive an old woman..." and she patted Sansa's shoulder half heartedly before she stepped away, glancing towards her granddaughter who was looking on with a look of concern on her face. Margaery's eyes followed Olenna back to her seat before snapping to Sansa's and then Tyrion's. Sansa looked on, dismayed to have possibly offended Lady Olenna. She didn't know quite what she could have done to make the woman's demeanor change so drastically so quickly. Even Tyrion, who had only been paying the conversation half an ear, was looking between the women with a confused look on his face. He gripped Sansa's fingers beneath the table.

"What happened? Are you alright?" He whispered.

"I'm fine..." she assured him. "She just...walked away. Do you think I upset her?"

He squeezed her fingers to calm her and sent her a small smile. "I'm sure it's nothing. Probably just sad to see her beloved rose wed to such a monster..."

As if to prove his point, Joffrey had interrupted a lovely, haunting rendition of _The Rains of Castamere_ by pelting the musicians with a handful of silver stags. He laughed gaily at the flinching and then the rush to collect the hard earned coins. Even Margaery looked on with disgust on her face before replacing it with another of her winning smiles when Joff turned to share his mirth.

Sansa forced a smile and nodded to her husband, vowing to apologize to Lady Olenna at her first opportunity. She filled her own goblet and tried to shake off the sudden coldness that she felt, determined to enjoy the feast as originally planned.

The feast went as well as they could hope. Even with Joffrey acting like an utter bully, Margaery kept up the pretense of the devoted bride, always smiling and making moon eyes at the king. At one point they even stood together, and Joffrey deferred to his new wife to announce that all the leftovers from the feast were to be given to the poor in Flea Bottom. The announcement caused a rippling of applause from the courtiers and a glower from the Queen Regent, though Cersei hid it quickly behind a mask of delight. The pair made a handsome royal couple, it couldn't be denied, but Sansa wondered what they would look like in the morning. She was sure Joffrey would struggle to keep up the appearance of a dashing king when they were all alone or if he would even try to maintain the facade. She gazed at Margaery's beautiful smile and wondered if this would be the last time she would see it.

Thank the gods it was not her.

Sansa sat back, fingers still wrapped around Tyrion's discreetly under the table and tried to relax. She found herself genuinely enjoying herself, tasting just a little of each of the 77 courses that Cersei had demanded. She knew Tyrion had balked at the extravagance, but there was no use fighting it now that it had come to pass. No use mourning coin already spent. So she took a bite of this dish and that, savoring the tastes of everything. She particularly enjoyed a creamy sweet potato soup which reminded her of the hearty fare in Winterfell and the peach tarts sticky with honey. Tyrion's favorite was a spiced, peppery Dornish lamb that had the both of them gulping down their wine to escape the fire in their mouths. He had laughed when she had first taken a bite and had swore she had turned as red as her hair.

Tommen, sitting beside them and all but ignored by his mother, joined in on their fun. The three of them giggled quietly with each other, trying to pinpoint the most extravagantly dressed courtier. Sansa's guess was Lady Tanda, who despite being well within her last few months of her pregnancy, had adopted the new queen's style with a plunging neckline and cut outs on the sides and back. Tyrion was willing to put down a silver stag on Ellaria Sand, Prince Oberyn's paramour, as taking home the prize. Sansa had blushed at the very sight of the mesmerizing woman, all raven black hair, sun-tanned caramel skin, and gleaming dark eyes.

She had all but forgot her earlier uneasiness, when the king stood again.

"Everyone, SILENCE! Clear the floor!" the jovial conversations of the crowd stopped as they all turned to their sovereign lord and servants rushed forward to do his bidding. Sansa felt her smile fade on her face and watched the same happen to Tyrion. Nothing good could come from this.

"There's been too much...amusement here today." Confusion was apparent on everyone's faces, especially Lord Tyrell, who gaped at the complaint. "A royal wedding is not an amusement. A royal wedding is history!" He proclaimed grandly, waving a hand to waiting servants. Sansa, along with the crowd, turned their attention to where the servants were rolling in a gilded lion's head and Sansa felt dread creep up her spine. "And the time has come for us all to contemplate our history..." A lever was pulled and the great lion's mouth fell open with a clatter, causing muted gasps from the crowd. Joffrey, clearly loving the mummery grinned wickedly, his eyes flashing towards Sansa and Tyrion briefly. "My lords...my ladies...I give you...The War of the Five Kings!" from the lion's mouth ran stunted men. One was dressed in a mimicry of Joffrey's own wedding coat and wearing a miniature crown, identical to the one of the king's head. Another in Renly's glorious armour, but instead of a horse, a doll with a curly brown wig sewn in place. Sansa gasped softly, horrified and felt Tyrion's fingers squeeze hers to the point of pain. They both just stared at the jape in front of them in shock.

Sansa watched the men line up, A dwarf version of Joffrey, Renly, Stannis, Balon Greyjoy, and then finally... Sansa felt tears well in her eyes at the sight and at the laughter that rose from the crowd. But the show was far from over.


	48. Chapter 48

Cruel laughter rose from the crowd as the dwarfs lined up to begin their show. Sansa's throat had seized the moment the lion's mouth had opened and the poor imitation of her dead brother had emerged. Now she struggled to breathe as flashbacks of Robb's boyish smile flitted through her mind as the wolf's head dwarf took his bow to the jeering audience. Even sweet Tommon was chuckling gaily at the sight before them. But she was not the only one at the high table frozen in shock and disgust. As the 'joust' began and the dwarf dressed as Renly was humiliated in a crude and obscene imitation of his well-known nightly habits, even Margaery's trained face could not hide her abhorrence. Loras had stormed from the table, unwilling to stand the insult and Lord Mace and Lady Olenna looked equally discomfited. But none of this was noticed by Joffrey, who laughed as loudly as anyone at the mummery he had arranged.

Sansa's eyes flitted to the man beside her, the obvious target of Joffrey's malice and cruelty. Joffrey had managed to torment quite a few victims with one fell swoop, but it was Tyrion who was shamed most of all. He motioned almost imperceptably to Podrick who stepped forth and leaned close to his masters twitching lips.

"Pay each of them twenty gold when this is done." he murmured, pity laced in his tone before he growled "We will have to find another way to thank the king..."

As Pod stepped back to order his bidding, Tyrion met her eyes. In the same moment, 'Robb Stark' had defeated the Greyjoy dwarf and began crowing "KING IN THE NORTH!" Sansa visibly flinched and Tyrion reached to squeeze her fingers. She bit her lip and screwed her eyes shut, focusing on his steady, warm pressure to chase the sobs that were rising in her throat.

Thank the Gods for him. Even sitting there, trying desperately to shut out the image forced in front of her, she was overcome with gratefulness towards her husband. She was no longer alone. She would always have him to weather whatever storm Joffrey could throw at them. Even now, when he was humiliated in front of the whole court, his gaze was laced with concern for her. Taking a deep breath, she reopened her eyes and managed a weak, encouraging smile. If he could put aside his shame to be there for her, she could set aside her pain to be there for him as well.

They turned back towards the scene, hand-clasped and stronger together, just in time to see the dwarf Joffrey come out triumphant. Joffrey managed to cease his manic, cruel giggling to hold out a heavy, clinking reward.

"Here you are! Your champion's purse! Although...you're not the champion yet, are you? A true champion defeats all his challengers. Surely there are others out there that dare to challenge my reign?" Sansa felt her stomach drop as she followed Joffrey's train of thought when his catlike sneer came towards them. "Uncle? How about you? I'm sure they have a spare costume..."

A few chuckles arose from the crowd, but it was like a heavy blanket had settled over them. Tension rose as the king singled out the man who had always bested him and Sansa knew it would not end well.

Tyrion seemed to weigh his options before standing plastering on a forced smile. "One taste of combat was enough for me, Your Grace. I would like to keep what remains of my face." More laughs rose from the crowd below. He should have sat then, but anger glinted in his eyes. "I think you should fight him! This was but a poor imitation of your own bravery on the field of battle. I speak as a firsthand witness." Joffrey shifted uncomfortably and scowled at his uncle. It was commonly known that he was absent during the Blackwater battle and that his insistance of his presence was a lie. "Climb down from the high table with your new Valyrian sword and show everyone how a true king wins his throne." A few cheers of encouragement came from the crowd and the shift of power was clear. "Be careful, though," Tyrion teased, gesturing towards the dwarf version of the king. "This one is clearly mad with lust. It would be a tragedy for the king to lose his virtue hours before his wedding night." True laughter rang out at his jesting and Tyrion took his seat again having said his part.

Joffrey however, looked utterly furious. Having clearly worked to embarass his uncle, in a few short words, Tyrion had once again bested him. Intelligent enough to know he was outwitted, Joffrey glowered at the dwarf before stalking over to the end of the table behind them. He slowly and agonizingly upended his goblet, pouring wine down on Tyrion, soaking him.

All humor had vanished at this point, outside of Joffrey's own chuckling and Cersei's smirk. Sansa sat beside her humiliated husband like a stone and met eyes with Margaery, who quickly looked away, her distaste for her groom clear but they were all powerless to stop him.

"A fine vintage," Tyrion muttered. "A shame that it spilled"

Joffrey's grin was once again swept from his face as it colored in rage. "It did not spill!" he stated petulantly, angry that Tyrion was taking away his victory.

Sansa knew this would not end well. Joffrey would never match Tyrion in wits and the pain and humiliation the king was subjecting him to was too much for the dwarf to let go. They were both equally unwilling to accept defeat in front of an audience and the tension was reaching dangerous levels. Her mind spun on how she could stop this without bringing Joffrey's wrath on her own head when Margaery smiled, sickeningly sweet and beckoned the king. "My love, come back to me! It's time for my father's toast."

It seemed to do the trick, as Joffrey sauntered back to his bride while the jousting dwarfs exited the stage. But his words were still biting. "Well, how does he expect me to toast without wine?" Uncle, you can be my cupbearer seeing as you're too cowardly to fight." Tyrion gritted his teeth and rose from his chair.

"Your Grace does me a fine honor."

Irritation and dangerous rage was clear on the kings face. "It is not meant as an honor!" Silence once again engulfed the crowd as they waited to see what the smallest Lannister would react. But then Tyrion turned to Sansa and she looked at him pleadingly. She could see the decision swirling in his eyes before the fight drained out of him and he approached his king. Joffrey's smile returned as he saw the defeat in his uncle and he sent a victorious smirk to his mother, who returned it.

But he was ungracious in his victory.

The moment Tyrion came to him and reached for the goblet, Joffrey purposely dropped it letting it clatter to the ground. As Tyrion bent to retrieve it, the king kicked it away from his fingers, sending it down towards Sansa. Pitying murmurs broke out from the crowd at that. Even Lady Olenna made a noise of distaste and Margaery looked away, shamed at Joffrey's actions. Tyrion just glared.

"Bring me my goblet." Joffrey taunted.

Fury rose in Sansa at the sight of her husband humiliated so as he sank to the ground to look and she pushed back her chair, moving to help him. Joffrey's glare turned to her, and only an hour earlier it would have chilled her blood for his attention to be aimed her way, but now she met his gaze fiercely. He could do whatever he wanted to her, but just as he had always been there for her, she refused to let Tyrion stand alone any longer. She retrieved the cup from where it was kicked and gently handed it to her husband. As he took it from her, she placed her other hand around his and gazed into his eyes-hoping her feelings and love and support would be communicated in that one touch. If Lord Tywin could be trusted, this may be the last time they would have to bow to Joffrey's cruelty. He nodded slightly, seemingly understanding, and returned to the petulant, sulky king who looked all the more furious that she had helped him.

As he went to pass the goblet to him, Joffrey only glared at him and scoffed. "What good is an empty cup? Fill it." Almost rolling his eyes at the continued mummery, Tyrion did as he was bid, holding out the now full chalice. But Joffrey was not appeased. His eyes narrowed, flitting towards Sansa. His glare was full of cruelty and madness and his lips turned up as he appraised her. While the hair on the back of her neck stood at his gaze, she refused to look away, meeting his gaze determinedly.

It was the wrong move. As he continued to stare at her, he spoke almost quietly. "Kneel." When Tyrion did not move, his attention finally left Sansa and returned to his hated uncle. Titters broke out from the crowd, and Joffrey flushed, embarassed. "I said...KNEEL!" But just like Sansa was unwilling to act the scared victim anymore, neither was Tyrion willing to submit to Joffrey. Even Tywin looked on, curious of how this was going to end. But just as Joffrey opened his mouth, whether to call for his uncles head or what, Margaery's musical voice rang out.

"Look, the pie!"

 **A/N: So sorry about the delay-hoping to get the next chapter out later today to make up for it!**


	49. Chapter 49

The new queen's words turned out to be the perfect distraction, as the whole audience leaped at the chance to escape the deadly tension between the Lannisters. The pie was wheeled out and presented before the royal dais and although the rest of the royal family (save Cersei) were quick to make a fuss over the arrival, Joffrey and Tyrion were still locked in a fierce glare. Tywin subtly moved forward, placed a less than gentle hand on the kings shoulder and wheeled him back to face his bride. Ever the consummate actress, Margaery laced her arms through Joffrey's and gave him a winning smile.

Although Sansa was sure this battle was far from over, she was glad to see Joffrey willing to give up the fight now and play the gallant groom. And she was glad to see her little husband make his way back to his seat, head and all. As he approached, she could see the anger and pain etched in his face and she was overwhelmed with pride for him. She knew how hard it must have been to be subjected to that level of humiliation without retaliating and she was so thankful that he was able to reign it in long enough to get through such a tense moment. She stood as he approached and pulled out his chair for him. Before she could stop herself, she placed a gentle kiss to his cheek as he sat, bringing a wide eyed look to his face and soft gasps from a few members of the crowd not distracted by the king and his bride.

They had never shared any form of physical affection in public before, but Sansa wanted the whole court to see her feelings for him in that moment. And as she watched the anger fade in his eyes, replaced with a semblance of joy, she knew she had the right of it.

Joffrey thankfully did not notice this display. Cersei however, had seen the whole thing and fixed Sansa with a look of disgust. Sansa boldly met the queen regent's gaze before they both turned their attention to her son, who was swinging his new Valeryian sword through the pastry, killing several doves in the process. Sansa almost gagged at the sight of the twitching birds, but Margaery stepped forward and smiled proudly at her peacocking husband. She took a plate from one of her maids and offered a bite to the king.

"Can we go now?" Sansa whispered lowly to her own husband, squeezing his hand.

"Let's find out" They pushed back their chairs and tried to discretely leave the dais.

But Joffrey's voice stopped them in their tracks.

"Uncle!" They both whirled around. "Where are you going? You're my cupbearer, remember?" The king spoke almost innocently, but the result was the same.

"I thought I might change out of these wet clothes, Your Grace." Tyrion gritted out.

"No, no, no. No, you're perfect the way you are. Serve me my wine." he turned and looked apologetically towards Sansa, but she just nodded. There was not much they could do. "Well, hurry up. This pie is dry!" The king cried when Tyrion didn't leap to do his bidding. The dwarf finally stepped forward and poured a fresh glass of wine before thrusting it into Joffrey's hands. "Mm, good. Needs washing down!" The king gulped greedily.

"If it please Your Grace... the Lady Sansa is very tired..." Tyrion tried again. It looked as if Joffrey was going to refuse him again, but a different voice rang out.

"Of course." Tywin's tone brooked no argument as he stood, imposing as ever. "Go care for your wife." he dismissed his son with a flick of the wrist while leveling the king with a challenging look. While Joffrey was always eager to fight his uncle, his grandfather was a different matter. He turned back to his bride, knowing he had lost. Sansa breathed a sigh of relief, and grasped her husbands hand again, pulling him away from the dais and back to the safety of their rooms.

They walked in silence, but Sansa could feel the rage radiating from him and did not want to say a word to disrupt him from his thoughts. They passed the spot in the gardens only a few hours ago they had found a level of happiness between them and Sansa sighed, thinking about how far they were from that peace now. As they began to climb the grand staircase back up to the keep, a flash of minty green and bright orange caught Sansa's eye among the lush gardens. She could not hear the words spoken, but Lady Olenna's face looked like thunder as she whispered furiously with the dashing Prince of Dorne.

Sansa faltered in her steps as she drank in the scene. The queen of thorns looked frantic in a way Sansa had never seen before. The sharp-tongued and even sharper-witted woman always held an air of smug superiority but watching her now she looked almost...desperate. And while Sansa had only seen Prince Oberyn twice since his arrival and did not know the man, Tyrion had complained that the man was quite sardonic and ostentatious. He did not look like this now though. He listened to the older woman with a furious look of hunger in his eyes and he nodded along to her words gravely before slipping her something discretely. Although they were hidden among the trees, Sansa had an excellent viewpoint from her place on the stairs as she caught sight of a small, velvet purse change hands.

And in a moment, the pair were once again out of sight as Sansa and Tyrion continued up to the keep. She bit her lip as she ascended the steps, pondering on the interaction she had just witnessed.

But that could all wait for later. The moment the couple were behind doors, Tyrion launched himself at their table, sweeping it's contents to the floor in a roar of anger. Sansa flinched at the clatter it made and at the raw fury coming off her husband in waves.

"That damned bastard!" he swore, prowling like the little lion he was, brows furrowed menacingly. "I swear, Sansa, I will kill him. I will kill-"

She swooped down and grasped his hands to still him, pressing one to his lips, halting his words.

"Hush, my lord! Have a care how you speak! We are not out of King's Landing yet and the walls have ears..."

"Not a one of them could blame me after that spectacle! He humiliates me, he taunts you..." At this he seemed to check himself and looked at her truly, the rage starting to ebb in his eyes. "Are you alright, Sansa? I'm so sorry...I had no idea they would plan such a scene..."

Sansa smiled, touched that even in his own pain he would find concern for her. She thought about the moment in the gardens, before Joffrey had ruined it all, and felt a blush come to her cheeks. Forcing herself to not hide behind her walls, she reached out and cupped a palm around his cheek, smiling at him.

"I'm alright, Tyrion. I'm fine." and she found she spoke the truth. Yes, seeing such a horrific depiction of her brother's death had been harrowing. Yes, she was furious and had she not had Tyrion beside her, she doubted she could have gotten through it without breaking down there in front of everyone. But she hadn't been alone. Tyrion had been there to hold her hand and stand with her against that brutal tyrant of a king. And just as he had been there for her, she wanted to be there for him.

Her smiles and touches seemed to be a soothing balm to his temper as she pulled him closer to her, folding her arms around his shoulders and resting her face into his shoulder. They stood there for a moment as his breathing slowed and he wrapped his own hands around her as well.

"Come, my lord. I'm sure we will be needed later as the feast progresses. Let us take the time we have been granted to relax. Perhaps we could fit in a game of Cyvasse?" Tyrion's bright smile warmed her heart as he nodded.

"I would love nothing less, my lady"

He poured them both goblets of wine as she began setting the board and within minutes they were both lost in the game. She had almost forgotten about the feast or the travesty of a play or even Lady Olenna in the gardens when the bells began to ring.

 **A/N: Okay, couldn't get it out same day, but still quicker than before! Thank you all for your reviews as they always inspire me to write quicker. I promise I have not and will not abandon this story! I sat down this morning to map out where i want it to go, and I promise, it'll be a fun ride! Please enjoy and review!**

 **darkmoon0023: You seriously had me concerned and counting the days too! I was like...there's NO WAY I let it go that long!**

 **Aerdor: Not abandoning! Hoping to update Playing the Game sometime soon as well! I'm slightly less invested in it, but I sincerely appreciate everyone's interest in my stories and will try my best to not disappoint!**


	50. Chapter 50

When the first peal of the bell rang, they ignored it. Probably just more celebrations for the royal wedding. If anything, it only served as a reminder that they would not be able to absent themselves for much longer. Tyrion had changed out of his soaked doublet the moment they had arrived, so their excuse had long since run it's course. Tywin would expect them to return to the festivities soon.

But then they had continued on and on until Sansa's head was throbbing. Then they had heard the pounding of feet and the clattering of armour as what sounded like a full company of soldiers passed by their chambers.

"What in the seven hells..." Tyrion cracked the door open, just catching a group of Gold Cloaks disappear around the corner. He glanced back at Sansa and shrugged.

"Perhaps it is time for us to return to the feast..." she murmured softly, unable to shake the uneasy feeling dripping down her neck. Why would a host of Gold Cloaks be rushing towards the gardens in such haste? Tyrion nodded, moving to collect his shoes when a piercing scream rang out over the sound of the bells.

The two froze, staring at each other before Tyrion dashed to throw open the door again. Sansa watched as he scanned the hallway before ducking his head back into their rooms.

"Stay here," he commanded quickly, pulling on his boots. "I will be back in a moment. I'm going to see what's happening." As the door closed, Sansa couldn't help her heart from speeding and foolishly wishing he hadn't left her alone and confused.

As she waiting, unmoving, for her husband to return another mournful cry rang through the halls. Panic flooded through her and when a sharp rapping knock came from the door, she visibly jumped. With hesitation, she moved to slide the heavy bolt to open the door, cracking it gently and peering out.

"Shae?" she opened the door wider as her old friend smiled widely at her. Sansa had all but forgotten about the woman's promise to help her escape. Or her revealing her secret trysts with Sansa's husband.

"My Lady, I had hoped to find you! Quick, we only have a small window of time before they look for you. We must flee!" She clutched at Sansa's hands, her fingers wrapping around her wrists like vines.

"What...What's happened?" Sansa gasped, trying and failing to step away from the frantic handmaid.

"The boy king is dead. Killed at his own wedding and the Lion Queen is prowling for someone to blame. You need to leave. Now." Sansa froze and the breath left her lungs. Shae used her stilled motions to drag her through the door before Sansa came back to reality.

"Joffrey is dead?" she squeaked, tears of relief coming to her eyes. Shae gave her a wicked grin and nodded.

"But you will follow if you do not come with me now." She tugged Sansa all the harder and pulled her into the hallway, practically running towards to opposite direction Tyrion ran to.

The thought of her husband had Sansa digging her heels in. "But Tyrion-"

Shae's face contorted in ugly fury. "The queen will deal with the imp. He'll find himself in the black cells by nightfall"

Sansa pulled them to a stop and ripped her arm from the handmaidens hands. "No! He is innocent! He was with me the whole time! He couldn't have killled the king! I have to go back I have to help him!"

"He would not do the same for you! If his own neck was on the line, he would abandon you in a heartbeat! Please, my lady, we have to go now!"

But Sansa was shaking her head. "He would not. He promised me I wouldn't be alone again. How could I leave him?" She started walking briskly towards the gardens, where cries and shouts of guards and worried courtiers were drifting from. Where her husband was in danger. But suddenly a hand tangled in her hair, pulling her back and to the ground. Sansa shrieked in fear and twisted to see Shae, panting with exertion with a cruel grimace on her face her eyes narrowed in a sneer.

"You will not save him, you little bitch!" Her growl was nothing like she had heard from the handmaid before and Sansa stared, open-mouthed. "Dontos!" she cried, hands still wrapped in Sansa's delicate hair. The king's fool leapt from around the corner, running towards them a look of despair on his face.

"Stop it, you're hurting her!" he reached to pull Shae's hands from Sansa's hair, but the handmaiden only gripped tighter, bringing another squeal of pain from Sansa's lips.

"She's not going to come quietly. But she must come. Hurry! Before someone finds us, take her and make sure she doesn't get away." She thrust Sansa towards the disgraced knight who looked at her apologetically.

"Please, good ser!" Sansa cried, rising to her knees and clutching his tunic. "You are a knight, no matter what Joffrey has made you. Do not do this!" He sighed carefully before his hands wrapped around her wrists tightly.

"Forgive me, My Lady. This is for the best." He twisted her wrists so that they were behind her and despite her struggles, his grip was iron. As he tied her wrists together behind her back, Sansa screamed.

 _Please God, let someone come. Let someone save me._

But Shae's palm connecting with her cheek, silencing her cries. "Shut her up, you fool! The guards will only be distracted for so long! The queen and that vile imp will be looking for her!"

"No!" Sansa screamed, but the fool's hand covered her mouth, muffling any sound she made.

 _Tyrion! Gods, help me! Don't let them take me!_

She struggled as hard as she could, flailing in the fool's arms and even ripping the shoulder of her gown. But it was no use. With Shae in front, scouting for onlookers, the fool and the whore dragged her through the keep.


	51. Chapter 51

The courtyard was chaos. The gardens that had only hours ago held a wedding feast were now crawling with Lannister guards. Wedding guests were crying and screaming in protest, held against their will by the crimson soldiers and at the very center of the mayhem was the queen. Cersei never looked more of a lioness, screaming orders, red faced, and fierce. For half a moment, Tyrion stood, shocked at the scene before him, but then the lioness' eagle eyes narrowed in on him. He watched her face glaze over with fury as she pointed a shaky finger at him.

"You...You vile creature...you MURDERER!" Tyrion watched, helpless as she descended towards him, guards following threateningly. She was practically foaming at the mouth, spitting poison as her voice rose, as well as her palm before it collided with his cheek, sending him reeling.

"Cersei!" Their father caught her wrist before she could strike him again and yanked her away. "You will control yourself immediately." He growled thrusting his crazed daughter into Jaime's arms (he had come running at the commotion), who did what he could to contain her.

"Take him!" she screamed wildly towards the guards as she struggled in her brother's grasp. "Take him!" The few guards who had followed her down the steps faltered, stepping forward to do her bidding, but shrinking away when Tywin glared at them.

"They will do no such thing, Cersei. Your brother was not even here when Joffrey was poisoned. He had been gone for over an hour."

"Joffrey is dead?" Tyrion sputtered, equally shocked by the turn of events as he was that his father had defended him.

"Nearly so." Tywin snarled, motioning Jaime to drag Cersei away before she made even more of a scene.

"You told me, you monster!" She shrieked as she was pulled away. "You promised me! That when I was safe and happy, my joy would turn to ashes in my mouth! That I would know the debt is paid! You murdered my son! _Kinslayer!_ " Her accusations rang though the crowd and Tyrion paled.

He could not deny that he hated the boy. They had never had a good relationship, but any sense of familial love had evaporated when Joffrey had tried to rape his wife. But he would never have murdered him! He was Jaime's son. And as complicated as he and Cersei's relationship was, Joffrey was her son as well. The words she was parroting back to him had been spoken in cold anger. She had been so smug, so cruel in how she had tormented and threatened him and he had succeeded in ruining that confidence. But he would never murder her child-even one as rabid as Joffrey.

Once the threat of the queen was eliminated, Tyrion tried to focus. "Nearly so?" he questioned his father, who looked grim.

"Poisoned. Pycelle is with him now, though we shall see if he lives. I doubt he'll have his wits even if he does survive. The poison blocked his airways-the boy was blue when he was carted out of the gardens. Only time will tell"

"And you think me innocent?" Tyrion couldn't help but be suspicious of his father's defense. He would think Tywin would jump at the opportunity to get rid of him once and for all. An accusation of regicide would be a permanent fix to his dwarf problem. But Tywin just fixed him with a hard glare.

"Your sister is quite distraught and knows not what she says. She first accused the Tyrells, now you. I was quick to quiet her then and I am quick to do it now. She shames the Lannister family throwing around baseless accusations as she does. I will not have it said that we are warring against each other. I am sure we will discover the true culprit. You will remain in King's Landing until then. I doubt your wife will object now that ...the threat is gone."

Tyrion's blood turned to ice at the chilling description of his father's recollection. No matter how mad, Joffrey was his grandchild...his first grandchild! He shuddered, reminded without a doubt that Tywin saw them all as chess pieces to move around at will. But he couldn't help also feeling a wave of relief, knowing that Sansa was finally safe. If Joffrey did survive, his brain would be muddled. Tyrion remembered a stable boy from the Rock who had all but drowned. When deprived of air, the brain rots. Joffrey would never hurt Sansa again.

"If I have your leave, I would go and inform my wife of these developments." Tywin nodded, flicking his hand in dismissal as he returned his attention to the guards.

He made his way back to his chambers, collecting Bronn and Chella from the confused, captive party guests. He waddled back to his wife, wondering how he was going to tell her that her biggest tormentor lay on his death bed. He knew he should have some semblance of pity for the boy, but knew he did not. Joffrey had been a monster and the realm would be better suited without him. And Sansa...perhaps with time her nightmares would cease and her smiles would become more frequent. Perhaps fear wouldn't rule her as it did now. He thought back to the kiss they had shared in the gardens. It was completely unprompted by him-her choice and her's only. The passion and tenderness that had passed between them had been real and Tyrion was greatly looking forward to seeing her open up to him more and more. He would never pressure her to do anything she did not explicitly ask for, but he couldn't help but want her. He wanted to comfort her, to hear her laugh. He wanted her to come, willingly, to bring him her joys and her sorrows and her lust. He wanted a true marriage of love with her and for the first time since he informed her of his father's demands, he dared hope she wanted the same.

It was with this optimism that he rounded the corner, only to freeze when he saw their door ajar.

"Sansa?" He stepped forward hesitantly, pushing the door open. But she was not there. "Sansa?!" he called, a bit louder. "I told her not to open the door for anyone..." He murmured, motioning his companions to spread out and look.

"Half-man..." Chella called from down the hall, holding something up. Tyrion quickly waddled closer, his heart sinking as he recognized the scrap of torn fabric in her hands.

 _Sansa..._

 **A/N: Hey guys! Hope you enjoy the new chapter-hoping to get the next one out in a bit of a shorter time. I feel it necessary to have Tywin change a few things in history as I think the character that GRRM created would not let so much go. He would reign Cersei and Joffrey in. Also, keep in mind in my story, he believes Tyrion has obeyed him (and will continue to obey him) by consummating his marriage. He has everything to gain (*Winterfell*) by keeping Tyrion safe. But anyway, please read and review!**


	52. Chapter 52

**A/N: I've gotta say it was so difficult writing this chapter. And I'm still not satisfied with it. But I've made you all wait long enough. Hopefully I get hit with a wave of inspiration and can get the next chapter out easier. Please enjoy and review!**

His blood froze as he stared at the torn fabric, hope that she had just left of her own accord-curious to what had happened- shattering. For the gown to have torn must mean there had been a struggle. His wife had fought whoever had taken her. His fingers tightened around the scrap that he had left of her and protectiveness flooded him.

"Find her." he whispered, his gaze shooting to his companions, each looking just as concerned as he.

They immediately jumped to scan the surrounding courtyards. Tyrion waddled as quickly as his legs could take him back towards the gardens. The first Lannister guard he caught sight of, he called towards him.

"Run to my father, now. Tell him the Lady Sansa has been taken. Tell him the Lady of Casterly Rock has been kidnapped just as someone tried to murder the king. Run now!" The man (a boy, truly) turned stark white before rushing to do as he was bid. As Tyrion watched the boy run, his mind raced. How could he find her?

His eyes darted to the garden's hedges and a thought rushed through his mind. He remembered the first time he had come to King's Landing. He had been a teenager at that point and had been obsessed with finding all the hidden passageways about the Red Keep, just as he had at the Rock. He rushed towards the hedges, hoping that he path he had found all those years ago hadn't been overgrown. He was pleased to see at least a semblance of a parting between the branches and squeezed his way through. The path was small, barely large enough for a child, let alone a full grown adult, but Tyrion fit easily, making his way towards what he remembered to be the docks. He trusted his father to shut down the gates leading into the city as soon as he heard, but while they could secure the city quite easily, if Sansa was being spirited away on the water, there would be no way to track her.

Tyrion finally came out on the other end to the cliff side, taking the chiseled stairs down towards the water quickly, praying his misshapen feet would not slip on the stone. He came down to the docks and saw a small, unmanned fishing boat bobbing in the water. Before he could even think, a voice rang out behind him. He quickly ducked behind the side of the cliff. He hid as a small group came down the main path.

"Hurry, you fool!" a horribly familiar voice rang out. "That she-devil was right behind us. Get her in the boat-your payday is almost here..."

 _Shae_... Anger rushed through him as he recognized the voice. Shae was taking Sansa? Why? He chanced a glance around the rock and rage coursed through him at the sight.

His old mistress and the king's fool were dragging a struggling Sansa towards the boat. His beautiful wife was fighting with everything she had, tears coursing down her cheeks as she flailed in their arms. The fear in her eyes was clear, but the girl was putting up quite a fight-even though Dontos was more than twice her size, he was obviously struggling to keep her in his grasp. Sansa was clearly trying to scream for help, but under the brute's palm, only muffled cries escaped. But it was still likely to call attention to their escape, and Tyrion saw Shae raise her arm. He watched the whore's palm connect with Sansa's delicate face and felt his rage bubble over. He flew from his hiding spot, his fingers tightened around a sharp rock on the shore and soon it was flying towards the trio.

The rock hit Shae in the temple, cutting into her skin and causing her to stagger. All three turned in shock as Tyrion rushed forward, calling out in rage.

"You _whore_!" he collided with Shae, tackling her into the shallow water. Dontos and Sansa had both frozen in spot, shock-still by his sudden presence. But Sansa seemed to jolt to her senses quicker than the drunken fool and she used the advantage to twist free from his grasp.

"Tyrion!" she gasped as the fool tried in vain to recapture her. But as he rose from the waves to try to reach her, Shae's nails dug into his arms, tearing into his skin as she screeched at him. Unable to help his wife while under attack, Tyrion focused on his former lover. Every trace of her beauty was erased by the hate in her eyes as she fought him in the water. She wielded her nails like talons and they raked down his face, tearing open the practically healed scabs from the Blackwater.

But, although Shae was almost twice his height, she was no match for him, especially off her feet and in knee deep water. Overcome with rage and protectiveness, Tyrion was oblivious to the fact that this was a woman he used to love. Instead, this harpy had tried to take away his wife. His perfect, kind, beautiful, witty wife who he had steadily fallen in love with. And in the moment where he had hoped that there was a chance she might feel the same, this witch had tried to take her away from him.

Anger and betrayal surged through him as his hands locked around Shae's slender throat and he pushed her face below the waves. She fought him, raking those claws of her down any patch of skin she could find. But a rage-filled determination kept her from overpowering him. Although all he saw was red, a small part of him registered a commotion behind him-heard a clash of steel and a thick northern accent yelling. Chella must have caught up and was taking care of the fool. All the more reason for him to take care of Shae...

At some point, the whore's limbs stopped flailing, but Tyrion did not lessen his hold on her. Shae...the first girl who he had loved since Tysha. Another liar, another woman who had used him for what he could give her...another whore. And this woman had tried to take away the only pure thing in Tyrion's life. Take away Sansa. Beautiful, kind, beaten but not broken Sansa. His fingers tightened further on the unyielding flesh of Shae's neck. He had promised no one would ever hurt her again and this whore had almost made him break his word.

Anger and hate swirled within him as he held the unmoving Shae underwater when a gentle hand was placed on his shoulder. Tyrion jerked, broken out of his haze and his hands instantly dropped the dead whore. He stared at her frozen face in shock before he shakily turned, seeing Sansa's concerned eyes. Just as violent fury had filled him a moment ago, shame and remorse flooded him now. He had killed Shae-a woman he had thought himself in love with. He looked up at his innocent, flawless wife and knew in his heart he didn't deserve to touch her. But her arms came out anyway and wrapped around his neck, pulling him into her shoulder. They sagged against each other, having almost just lost each other. They knelt in the water and for just a moment everything was fine.


	53. Chapter 53

Sansa sat on the chaise hugging her knees, uncaring of looking like a lady. Not even in front of present company.

Tywin was listening to his son recount the events of that afternoon with almost a bored expression in his eyes. Sansa could hardly blame him-King's Landing had fallen into utter chaos as soon as Joffrey had been poisoned and the Lord Hand was dealing with it all. While he had obviously taken Sansa's attempted kidnapping seriously, she knew Lord Tywin was only concerned with the security threat-not the welts on her wrists or the bruises blooming on her face. In fact, he had hardly even looked at her when he had entered the room. No, Tywin was way more concerned with the motives behind this attack on House Lannister. What had happened to Sansa was just a part of the puzzle.

Just as the king was poisoned, someone had tried to spirit away the key to the north. It was no coincidence.

Tyrion was describing how Chella had disposed of Sir Dontos as Shae had been drowned when Tywin interrupted. "So they are both dead?" His disappointment was palpable.

"Yes." Tyrion growled, and Sansa could sense his indignation. "Would you have allowed the people who tried to kidnap Lady Lannister to continue breathing? People who brutalized her?" It took Sansa aback to be referred to as such, but the anger and protectiveness in his voice calmed her slightly. She had been so afraid...even the memory of the terror she had felt as they had dragged her away brought fresh tears to her eyes, though she refused to let them fall in front of Lord Tywin.

But Tyrion had come. He had saved her. Sansa could not remember feeling half as relieved in her life as when Tyrion had appeared at the dock. He had tackled Shae into the water, leaving only a surprised Dontos to escape from. She had easily been able to twist from his grasp, and Chella had come down the steps shortly after to distract and eliminate him, but the scene before her had scared her as well.

Rage had darkened Tyrion's usually mirthful eyes as he had held the whore's face under the splashing water. He looked dangerous and ferocious as Shae's arms had stopped flailing and she had grown still, yet his fingers remained locked around her throat. Sansa had been afraid of him then, she couldn't deny it. While he had always been gentle and tender with her...to see him in such a way frightened her. She had seen him racked with betrayal and fury and before she could stop herself, she had reached out to him. Her touch had been like a healing drop of cool water as he had turned to her, rage dissipating and his fingers had released the whore.

Tywin's snort broke her out of her memory. "Of course not. They would have been dealt with. But in due time-after they had given us all the information they knew. Unless you truly believe a disgraced knight and a whore could have mastermined this whole thing?" Somehow, even facing the possible death of his grandson and king, Tywin found the time to belittle his hated son. But Sansa was grateful when Tyrion did not rise to the bait and only bit whatever sharp response he had back.

"Shae...Shae said something about receiving payment..." Sansa murmured softly, racking her brain.

Tywin's gold-green gaze swiveled to her. "Payment...Did they say nothing that could allude **who** they were working for?"

Sansa closed her eyes for half a moment, trying to remember the words she had overheard as she had been fighting for her life. Finally she shook her head. "No, my lord. No specifics. " she whispered and he nodded, rising to his feet.

"I see. I will leave you now to rest. I must look in on the king. I will send someone in the morning to see if you have remembered anything else." Sansa nodded, taking Tyrion's hand in hers-happy that the interview was at an end.

"How is his Grace?" she asked, suddenly remembering that Joffrey was fighting for his life.

"He is yet to wake, My Lady." Tywin clipped. "He is being cared for by Pycelle and his mother. Time will tell."

"I will pray for his swift recovery." She bowed her head dutifully, but not before seeing a hint of what looked like amusement in her husband's eyes.

Tywin only turned to his son. "Tyrion, I expect you to come to the Tower of the Hand this evening to discuss what this means for House Lannister."

"Yes, father. Let me tend to my wife and then I will join you." Tywin nodded curtly and left them be.

The moment they were alone, Sansa allowed her back and neck to relax and she leaned to rest her cheek on Tyrion's shoulder. His arms came up to wrap around her and he leaned his own face into her hair, placing a soft kiss at her hairline.

"Will Joffrey live?" she whispered and felt more than saw Tyrion shrug slightly.

"I don't know, Sansa. But even if he does, he will never hurt you again. We will still leave here, I swear it." He pulled away slightly to look her in the eye and all she was was earnestness with a hint of an apology. "We might have to wait...just a bit. Just until they investigate what happened."

She nodded, tamping down her disappointment. It was to be expected. "Who do you think did this?" she pondered and Tyrion's brow furrowed.

"I don't know," he answered honestly. "Someone who had the wherewithal to think five steps ahead. It was too perfect-spiriting you away the moment King's Landing fell into chaos. If I had not come back when I did..." he trailed off and Sansa shuddered at what was left unsaid. She felt warm though as his arm tightened around her protectively.

"I'm sorry I left you alone.." he whispered in her ear, regret evident in his tone.

She looked up at him again and gazed into his mismatched eyes, raising her hand to cup his cheek.

"You came for me. You saved me. You always do." His relieved smile warmed her heart.

Gently, he moved to kiss her forehead again, but she just smiled and held him still with the hand still on his cheek. Ignoring his confused look, she pressed her lips to his.

 **A/N: Sorry for the delay!**


	54. Chapter 54

Tyrion sat and observed his sister wailing about injustices, pacing the chambers of the hand as his father looked on dispassionately. Only Jaime seemed to be concerned with trying (in vain) to comfort her. Although everyone around him seemed to be in utter chaos and though the future of his house was in doubt, Tyrion could not stop his mind from wandering to _her_. With all the excitement, he had all but forgotten the hope that had risen in his chest when she had first kissed him. Now the memory of sweet Sansa initiating that contact came back in full force. While the kiss on the terrace had been wild and fueled by a mix of desperation and the release of tamped down passion that had been building between them, the one they had shared in their apartments this afternoon had been much calmer. He had actually had the time to process her soft lips under his...the faint smell of lemons and a woodiness that always lingered in her hair and skin... When she had finally pulled away, the shy smile she had sent him had nearly undone him.

He shook his head, willing the smile that was tugging at his own lips to go away. This was no time to be reminiscing about his beautiful bride and how they were becoming closer. No time to try to process his own feelings for her and for the possibility that Jaime was right. He shook Sansa from his mind and tried to focus on the task in front of him. The sooner that his father was satisfied with a plan, the sooner he could return to her.

"It was that _whore_!" Cersei was now crying, her eyes red rimmed and brimming with rage. "That Highgarden whore and her witch of a grandmother! I told you, father! I warned you they would try to usurp us and now my poor boy clings to life! That little bitch has tried to murder my son!" Tyrion's eyes shot quickly to the door, worried of someone overhearing her ravings, but Tywin just barely glanced up in annoyance. Dripping with irritation, he placed his quill down and leveled her with a withering glare, steepling her fingers below his chin.

"I will have her thrown in the black cells! Her and that crone! They can rot in the seven hells for what they have done to their king!" Cersei was oblivious to her father's cold eyes appraising her. Even Jaime had backed away from her, cowed by Tywin's iciness.

"And what would happen then?" his tone soft, but unyielding. "If you arrested the daughter of the Lord of Highgarden? If you arrested his mother?"

"Mace Tyrell is a fool!" Cersei hissed, pacing like a caged lioness. "I do not fear that halfwit or his traitorous house!"

"You are the fool to underestimate the Lord Paramount of the Reach. Mace Tyrell controls the largest army in Westeros right now. His lands have been almost untouched from the wars and the shipments of wheat from them are keeping your city alive. How quick do you think those shipment will stop if you touch the girl or her grandmother? How quick do you think that army who is keeping our gates safe would be beating them down?"

"They would not dare to rise against their rightful king! We will remind them what happens when they dare cross the Lions of Lannister! I will have my own Rains of Castamere!" Cersei raved like a madwoman, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks as she trembled in rage. Tywin, however, looked on coldly-not at all moved by her tantrum. Finally, breathing out a sigh of annoyance, he gestured towards his rabid daughter.

"Jaime, take your sister to her chambers to rest. She is not of sound mind." He returned to his parchment as Jaime dragged Cersei from the room. Once they were gone and her shouts had faded, he turned to one of the crimson guards standing at attention. "Take a dozen men and stand guard at the Tyrell's chambers. Lady Margaery, Lady Olenna, and Lord Mace are all under my protection. No one save myself, Lord Tyrion, Lady Sansa, or the Grand Maester shall enter." Tyrion's interest was piqued as he listed he and Sansa, but not even Jaime. "You will send my apologies, but they are also not to leave their chambers." The captain nodded before turning heel and following his orders.

After they sat in silence for a moment, Tyrion moved to sit in the empty chair across from his father.

"A wise move. They cannot object to house arrest with what has occurred. Yet we cannot give them free reign of the keep. And if Cersei were to interact with them, it could lead to a fall out we can't deal with now." While Tywin did not even glance up at his words, Tyrion knew he had already proven himself as the most sensible of the Lannister children. But still..."Why Sansa?"

"Your wife has cultivated a relationship with the Tyrell girl. The friendship could be beneficial for us. If the Lady Sansa can get any useful information from her. Lady Margaery is no fool-she will not speak with our guards or with me. But to a friend, she may reveal something of import." Now he paused in his writing and pointed the quill in Tyrion's direction. "You just need to insure that your wife remembers who she owes her allegiance to. Anything that is said between them, she must relay to you. And you will bring anything important to me." Tyrion nodded, knowing this was not the platform to argue with his father.

"How is the king?" Tyrion asked.

"With every hour, Pycelle is less sure he will wake."

"And how is Tommen?" Tyrion asked after just a heartbeat.

"The boy is in his rooms." His father had not even glanced up. "Hopefully preparing himself for what is to come. For the responsibilities that will soon be his."

Tyrion nodded thoughtfully. "A shame his mother is so distracted by Joffrey...If the Grand Maester is correct, soon little Tommen will be all she has..." He mused, focusing his attention on a random paper on his father's desk. He hid a smile as Tywin's quill halted and he glanced up in truth. He watched from the corner of his eye as his father gestured towards another guard.

"Fetch the Prince Tommen from his rooms. He shall be moving into a spare chamber in the Tower of the Hand. There is one not four doors down from here. Have him settled comfortably and make sure he has no visitors. I will come to see him shortly."

 _He who holds the king holds the kingdom_

 ** _A/N: Thank you guys so much for your patience. Work, writers block, and my personal life always gets in the way! I want you all who reviewed to know how much I appreciate you! I'll try my best to get some more chapters out soon! Hopefully by this weekend!_**


	55. Chapter 55

**A/N: Not quite on time for the weekend goal, but much sooner than the last chapter! Enjoy and review!**

As soon as Tyrion had left her, Sansa had slipped on a heavier robe and sent a handmaid for tea. While the morning and afternoon had been lovely, now that the sun was setting a certain chill was in the air. As she sipped on the hot brew, she couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lips.

 _Winter is coming..._

And winter had come, in a sense. For the Lannisters at least; for Joffrey and Cersei. If the Gods were good, Joffrey would never wake. His reign of terror would be over and perhaps her nightmares may begin to fade and the realm may begin to heal. The boy was a mad dog and Sansa was glad that someone had put him down. But whoever it was had also tried to steal her away as well. The thought had her smile dying on her lips. But she had not been spirited away from her home. Tyrion had saved her.

As she settled onto a chaise, her robe wrapped around her to keep her warm, she glanced around the room and was struck by the thought that she views the space she shared with Tyrion as indeed her home. She would never consider King's Landing in rivalry with Winterfell, but this space...these chambers were home to her now. And it was all because of the security and happiness she shared with her husband. Warmth flooded her at the memory of their kiss. Kisses. She had been bold both times, but she couldn't find it in her to be ashamed of her actions. She had realized how desperately she wanted a happy marriage and being the icy, dutiful woman her septa had raised her to be would not achieve that. Tyrion had already told her that he would not push her and that they would go at her speed. So she needed to be the one to set the pace.

But she was also overwhelmingly thankful that Tyrion did not seem to see these handful of kisses to be invitation to anything more. He had responded to her, oh yes, but he did not seem to be pushing her any further than she was comfortable with. And although her heart had finally opened itself to him, she was still nervous and woefully inexperienced. She wanted to consummate their marriage but in her own time. When no more of these threats loomed overhead. When Joffrey was in the ground...when Cersei was contained...when Kings Landing and all the pain that had occurred here was behind them...Then she would begin to build the life that they would share. Until then, she would continue to open up to him and trust him.

As if on cue with her thoughts, the door swung open and her little lord husband waddled in. She couldn't help the smile that brightened her face as she moved to rise, but he raised a hand to stop her.

"Please, My Lady, no. You look so lovely just now. And so comfortable! Stay, please." He grinned at her and she couldn't help her own smile as well as a blush rising to her cheeks. She settled back on the chaise, wrapped in her soft robe and watched over her tea as he kicked off his own boots and grabbed a cup of his own. As he approached to take the empty space beside her he shivered exaggeratedly. "So cold!" he cried, causing her to chuckle.

"Barely chilly, My Lord. It will get much worse than this now that winter is coming." she winked at him.

"You Starks...you warned us for years, but now here you are prepared and ready for the snow while us Southroners freeze!" She giggled at his japes before they lapsed into a comfortable silence as they enjoyed their tea.

"What did your father say?" she asked timidly, causing him to sigh.

"Joffrey is likely to die any moment. He has taken Tommen out of Cersei's grasp, thank the Gods. She's absolutely lost control of her senses. She's accusing everyone in reach of treason. She's out for blood."

"Not you, surely!" Sansa gasped, knowing how little love there was between the siblings and worried of the golden queen's influence.

Tyrion only sent her a wry smile. "That arrow has already been fired and shot down by my loving father." Despite the sarcasm, Sansa breathed a sigh of relief. If Tyrion was protected by Tywin, they would be safe.

"And me? She knows I have more reason than most to want..." she trailed off, cursing her stupidity. The walls had ears, even now. Especially now.

"I think your potential kidnapping has cleared you of any suspicion. You clearly were not trying to flee of your own free will," he murmured, gently brushing a palm over the swollen bruise blooming on her cheek. She placed her own hand over his, holding in to her face and closed her eyes, breathing softly and savoring the safety she felt with him before opening them and nodding.

"So who is she accusing?"

"The sweet Lady Margaery, of course. She was jealous of the girl before and now it's blossomed into full hatred."

Sansa's brow furrowed. "Lady Margaery? But how? She was sharing a chalice with Joffrey...they were eating off each others plates when we left. What chance did she had that would not have put herself in danger?" She thought about Margaery's kind smile and was convinced that the girl did not have it in her to commit such an atrocity...And yet...

"A fact my sweet sister has chosen to ignore. My father has had her sequestered in her rooms for the time being so that she does not interfere with the investigation."

"But your father is investigating Margaery?" The cogs in Sansa's mind turned.

Now a look of annoyance crossed Tyrion's face. "I don't think he has a choice. But... Sansa,you must forgive me. I'm afraid my father plans to use you and your friendship with the roses to his advantage. I couldn't refuse..."

"What does he want from _me_?" She asked, surprised.

"He is under the impression that Lady Margaery might be more willing to open up to a friend rather than to Lannister guards. You don't have to question her necessarily. Just talk. Be there for her."

"Spy on her, you mean." Tyrion looked discomfited, but Sansa just nodded, reaching out to grasp his hand comfortingly. "I understand, Tyrion. This are not your orders. If spying for the Lord Hand will help us leave this godsforsaken place all the sooner, I will do it." He looked instantly relieved.

As their conversation shifted to other things, Sansa couldn't help her mind from racing. She remembered the conversations she had had with Margaery and with Lady Olenna. Remembered the calculating gleam in both of their eyes. Margaery had always been sweet to her, but Sansa couldn't help the feeling that there was more to the Rose of Highgarden than what met the eye. While the excitement of the afternoon had blinded her before, she had not completely forgotten the odd behaviour of Olenna during the wedding feast. Or the hushed, frantic conversation she had witnessed in the gardens between the old lady and the Viper of Dorne. Perhaps the roses had sharp thorns after all.


	56. Chapter 56

**A/N: Everyones reviews are so helpful! I genuinely appreciate every one of you who have enjoyed this story and have reviewed as it gives me so much inspiration to keep writing and putting out chapters quickly! I know this one is relatively short-but I hope you enjoy!**

For the first time since her father's head had rolled down the steps of the sept of Baelor, she did not feel gripped with anxiety and fear as she was led through the Red Keep by Lannister guards. She walked with her head up, her hair brushed back over her shoulders and with a serene smile on her lips. She watched as those she passed gazed upon her in wonderment. By now, news of her attempted kidnapping had spread. The whole capitol was buzzing at how the king had been poisoned and how she had been dragged to the docks. But here she was, perfectly put together as always, making her way to where the Tyrells were being held.

She wore a gown of pale sky blue, her old dragonfly necklace clasped around her throat. She wanted to look as unassuming as possible. Like Margaery's sweet, innocent friend-not a Lannister spy. While she detested being used to achieve Lord Tywin's ends, she knew she had to talk to Margaery to satisfy her own suspicions. And if this meeting ended up fruitful, she would think long and hard on just how much information to share with the old lion. She did not mind that Joffrey lay at death's door. But she very much minded being dragged from her husband to an unknown fate. If Margaery or her grandmother had anything to do with Shae or Dontos...well...Winter had come for the wretched king. How quick would the roses wilt in the cold winds?

Sansa allowed her features to grow worried as they approached the Tyrell's chambers and when she was admitted, she glanced around fearfully before relief filled her eyes at the sight of her friend.

Margaery looked a mess. Although she had changed into a simple black gown, her hair had clearly not been washed since the feast. The curls were still pinned up, albeit messily, and her face was still streaked with old tears-though when she saw Sansa, fresh ones welled up.

"Sansa!" Margaery rushed to embrace her, clinging tightly as she wept. Unbidden, some old advice Sansa had once been given floated through her mind.

 _We're all liars here...and every one better than you..._

How real were these tears that the Rose of Highgarden wept? How much of this was just a mummers show? But Sansa supposed she had a part to play as well, so she cooed softly, holding Margaery's shoulders as the girl cried in her embrace.

"Oh, it was horrible!" Margaery cried. "My poor prince! And no one will tell me if he is alright!"

"Has there been any news?" Came a harsh voice behind her. Sansa turned to see the queen of thorns herself, all but glaring at her. "Has the boy woken yet? If Tywin thinks he can just keep us locked away forever-"

"The Lord Hand is still investigating what has happened to King Joffrey, Lady Olenna" Sansa interrupted as softly as she dared. "I'm afraid he is keeping all the wedding guests in their chambers until the culprits can be caught and justice can be done for our sweet king." She ignored the woman's huff of annoyance and turned to Margaery, whose wailing had ceased as she listened. "Your husband has not woken quite yet, Your Grace. But he is being attended by the Grand Maester himself. He is receiving the best of care. I am sure he shall wake and you will take your place by his side." She smiled sweetly, parroting off the phrases Tyrion and his father had given her. Margaery only nodded limply, but the queen of thorns reacted in the way Tyrion predicted.

"Hardly a husband," she snorted. "All that gold gone to waste for a wedding unconsummated!"

"I'm cursed," Margaery murmured softly and Sansa could detect a hint of the truth in her mournful words. "What will become of me now? Twice wedded and twice widowed and still a maid."

Lady Olenna tutted in aggravation. "Oh stop your weeping, child. I'm sure you'll be queen yet. Or has Lord Tywin lost the need for Tyrell support?" She fixed Sansa with a leveling glance. "What say you, Lady Lannister? Does the crown still have use for our grain? For our men and our swords? The little prince will need a bride just as bad as his older brother. If the old lion would get off his arse to come speak with us, I could give this proposal to him. However he sends you in his stead." She huffed, clearly unsatisfied and tapped her fingers on the table where she sat, thinking through her next steps. She finally waved her hand dismissively and Sansa used the opportunity to guide Margaery to the window bay.

"What happened to your face?" Margaery gasped once they were in better lighting. The powder she had applied only did so much to hide the angry bruise. Sansa took note of her obvious surprise before offering the story of what had happened, paying close attention to Margaery's reactions.

The rose of Highgarden listened avidly, gasping in indignation and widening her eyes in concern at all the appropriate times. But there was something about her attentiveness that struck a cord in Sansa's mind. Sansa looked into Margaery's eyes-deep, guarded blue peering into wide, seemingly guileless brown and felt bells ringing in her head.

Sansa had been fooled by the golden prince's veneer of chivalry that had shielded cruelty and madness.

She had been fooled by the Hound's fearsome scars that had hidden a wounded honor.

But she had learned. It had been a hard lesson-one that had to be practically beaten into her. But she had learned. And she was not fooled by the Roses show of innocence.


	57. Chapter 57

**A/N Sorry for the delay! Hopefully this longish chapter makes up for it a little.**

 _I'm getting spoiled_ , Tyrion thought as he struggled to keep up with Tywin's long strides. Sansa, Bronn, Chella, Jaime...they all had made a point to walk to accommodate his speed in the past month but his father made no such concession. By the time they made it to the royal chambers, Tyrion was out of breath and his stunted legs were cramping.

The Lannister guards covering the entrance didn't say a word as Lord Tywin passed them, walking unannounced into the king's own chambers. Once again, the Lord Hand held uncontested power in the Red Keep. As they came into the room, Tyrion was almost knocked over by the powerful smell emitting from the bed. The smell of rotting flesh. Pycelle, as well as a team of lesser maesters, were flitting around the room like a flock of panicked birds. At the center was Joffrey, laying motionless on the bed. The boy king's skin was a sickly, translucent, green color with deep, purple bruising below his eyes. His lips were bloodless and chapped which provided a stark contrast to the torn flesh about his neck where he had clawed at in desperation. Instantly, Tyrion was glad that he and Sansa had missed the horrifying moments when he had choked. He lay unconscious, but the soft rise and fall of his chest proved that they boy still clung to life. At his side, clutching his limp hand in hers, sat Cersei, looking only slightly less sallow than her son with her limp hair in a tangled mess falling down her back and her eyes swollen and weeping. She turned upon hearing them enter, but after a quick, poisonous glare towards the both of them, turned her attention back to her child muttering soft prayers under her breath.

Tyrion stared on in shock. He knew the king may never recover from this attack, but he didn't expect to see him with one foot already in the seven hells. His monster of a nephew had days left, if not hours. And although he knew it was best for the realm and for his wife that Joffrey breathe his last sooner rather than later, he couldn't help how his heart clenched. This was his nephew, his blood-though there was no love lost between them. It was Jaime's son. And though she had always been an absolute witch to him, he was his sisters son as well. Seeing her now, kneeling at her lost son's bedside, tears silently running down her cheeks, looking more vulnerable than he had ever seen her, he couldn't help but be sympathetic. Even her next words did little to harden his heart.

"Come to see the fruits of your labor, you little monster?" She snarled, though all Tyrion could see was a wounded animal lashing out. Indeed it seemed as if she was powerless as Tywin only strode closer to her and snatch one of her hands away from her dying child.

"You will stop with this nonsense" he hissed lowly, so that no one else in the room could overhear him. Though the maesters were giving the Lannister family a wide berth, they knew all ears were on alert. "Don't you know they are all watching us? Waiting for us to topple? I will not have it said that the Lannisters are falling apart or battling each other."

Cersei jerked her hand away from her father glaring furiously, but she kept silent.

"Where is Jaime? I asked him to meet us here." Tywin asked, annoyance evident in his tone. Cersei just shrugged and their father sent her a withering glance. If it were less of a horrid situation, Tyrion would laugh. Who would have guessed that he would be his father's favorite child in the moment.

"Fine." He turned to the Grand Maester. "Pycelle, you are dismissed. I would speak with my daughter and son alone." The man began to protest, to try to say that he needed to be present in case the king took a turn for the worse, but a steady, leveling gaze from the old lion had him backing down. Once they were alone, Tywin addressed them both.

"We need to discuss our next steps. All the visiting families have been confined to their quarters and I am having our guards question them all. It seems as if we have lost our Master of Whispers. Lord Varys has not been seen since the wedding party left the sept. "

Cersei's eyes burned like wildfire. "I told Robert that eunuch could not be trusted!"

"And yet you made no move to remove him once your darling husband was dead." Tyrion murmured, earning another deadly stare from his sister. "Varys always seemed to play his own agenda, but if he is behind this attack, you can bet he did not act alone."

Tywin nodded thoughtfully but his sister only growled. "It was those damned Tyrells. That crone and her slut of a granddaughter."

"The Tyrells have lost their biggest playing card." Tywin clipped. "As long as Joffrey breathes, we can argue that Margaery is not free to remarry."

"The marriage was unconsummated. He was poisoned before they could be put to bed. We know they will push to have the union set aside on such grounds." Sansa had confirmed as much when she had returned from her visit with the roses that morning. He would get a detailed report once he returned to her this evening.

"I have it on good authority that the maid Margaery may not be quite the maid she claims to be." Tywin said in the closest to smug Tyrion had ever seen. "As long as Joffrey is alive, we have the right to demand the girl prove her purity before she can marry again. If they know that I will insist upon it they will have to wait. While they are waiting, I will be sure to let it be known that we are encouraging other families to come forward with their daughters. It will keep the Tyrells from demanding more than they are owed. Lady Olenna fancies herself clever-but she will remember her place soon enough."

Cersei had been surprisingly quiet, but now her head jerked up. "They mean to match her with _Tommen_?" she squeaked. Tywin just ignored her, but Tyrion could see the annoyance etched on his brow. Cersei had never been as quick as she had always thought. Was she just now catching on?

"But what of the supplies and men the Reach is providing?" Tyrion questioned, following his fathers lead in ignoring Cersei. "What's to keep Mace and his mother from shipping it all back home and leaving should we not give them what we want?"

"I'm not going to outright refuse them. Hope will keep them here and answering to our every whim. They want their daughter to be queen-they won't give up as long as there is a chance that will happen." The chamber doors creaked open, and the trio turned to see Jaime enter. Tywin sent him a dry look.

"You are late."

Cersei interrupted Jaime's half-hearted excuse as she pitched herself into her brother's arms. "They are plotting, Jaime! To take another of my son's from me!" She looked back at them with an accusatory glare.

"Is there a chance?" Tyrion asked, pulling the attention back to matters of importance. "Of Margaery and Tommen, I mean."

" _No!_ My son will not marry that whore!" Cersei cried hysterically as Jaime tried to calm her.

"The Tyrells are a useful ally." Tywin stated, much to the queen's dismay. "Their crops and their army seem untouched by this war. If Mace continues to provide for the crown at the price of one for his daughter, I see no reason to withhold it. But they have become too aggressive. Margaery shall be Tommen's queen, but I will not have her father or her brothers hold offices on the small council. After their coronations, the remained of the Tyrell lot, save her white-cloaked brother, shall be shipped back to Highgarden."

"So you will let them simmer, thinking they have lost their chance. Then you will give them what they want, but nothing else..." Tyrion saw the wisdom in that. Joffrey had been quick to promote the whole lot of them, but with this move, they will be cast back down. For half a second, Tyrion considered that his father could have had a hand in what had happened to his grandson. Joffrey had become quite a nuisance and the struggle would have only worsened as the boy grew older. He had not listened to any councilors, not even his grandfather. But no...that could not be.

Finally Cersei pushed away from Jaime and stomped over to them, her emerald eyes burning.

"How _dare_ you plot against your king! How dare you seek to set that weak cub and that murdering harlot before my son!" The confusion Tyrion was feeling was mirrored in his father's face before Cersei spun wildly towards the bed. " _Joffrey_ is king! He lives still and he will recover and then you will all pay for this treason! You are a traitor!" She pointed an accusing finger at her father, who looked on dispassionately. Jaime moved forward to grab her arm.

"Cersei, the boy is gone, clearly. You must look to the future. Tommen is your son as well and he needs you..." he implored her, but she would not be calmed.

"That boy is not half the lion Joffrey was!" She sobbed. "He is weak! He will never last! You will all eat him alive and he will ruin what Joff has achieved! You want my boy, your rightful king, gone so that you can rule the seven kingdoms! I will burn this house to the ground before I allow that to happen!" she screamed. Jaime held her tighter now, but she struggled in his arms like a lunatic. Losing Joffrey had clearly driven her over the edge into madness.

Tyrion watched on, almost as a spectator as Cersei raged and Tywin stared at her with that steely gaze. Never before had he clearly seen the overwhelming contrast between them-his father and his sister. Cersei was all consuming wildfire, destroying everything in her path and Tywin was pure ice-controlled and unforgiving. And while Tyrion had been on the brunt end of that calculating, judgmental stare plenty of times, he had never seen his father look quite so disappointed with either of his siblings. As if he looked at his golden, perfect daughter and finally seen the toxic, impulsive fool underneath.

"And how will you do that?" Tywin asked, condescension laced in his tone.

Cersei froze in Jaime's arms before a malicious grin curled on her lips, unsettling Tyrion. "I will tell everyone the truth..." she murmured quietly and the room fell deadly silent.

"And what truth would that be?" Tywin asked patronizingly.

 _No..._

Cersei seemed confused for just a moment. "You don't know, do you? You never believed it. How is that possible?"

Jaime tried in vain to pull her away one last time but she shook him off, coming to lock eyes with their father. Jaime's gaze shot towards Tyrion in panic, but there was nothing either of them could do. They both stood by helplessly as they watched this scene unfold.

Now Cersei scoffed. "What am I saying? Of course it's possible. How can someone so consumed by the idea of his family have any conception what his actual family was doing? We were right there in front of you, and you didn't see us. One look in the past 20 years, one _real_ look at your own children and you would have known," she sneered.

"Cersei..." Jaime warned again desperately. But there was no stopping their sister now.

Tywin stared at his daughter and Tyrion saw something he had never witnessed in Tywin Lannister before: fear. "Known what?" he whispered, frantically clinging to denial and in that moment he knew that to a degree his father had not been as blind as he had thought.

For half a moment the room completely stilled as if all their occupants were holding their breath-Tyrion certainly was. Cersei still had a manic, cruel smile painted on her lips as prepared to crush her father's ideals.

But if Tyrion had not thought too much of the Gods before, he was made a believer now. Just as his sister was about to light their family on fire, a gurgling sound came from across the room. All four heads jerked towards the dying boy king as his chest rattled. Cersei moved before anyone else had even grasped the situation and sprinted towards her son, grasping at his hands.

"Joffrey? Oh, Joffrey, my son. I'm here. I'm right here" she cooed, brushing his matted hair away from his sweat covered face. Gone was the menacing mad-woman she had been a moment ago-now she was a concerned, loving mother.

The rest of them took a sigh of relief. Jaime turned and ran towards the chamber door, ripping it open and calling for a maester. Tyrion turned to his father, who stood unmoving from where Cersei had left him. Tywin was all but unrecognizable. The iron mask that the great lion of Lannister had always worn was shattered and beneath it was a weak old man who looked crushed. Finally, emerald eyes rose at met mismatched ones before his father abruptly turned on his heel and fled the room.


	58. Chapter 58

**A/N: Please forgive me for this delay. I'm not going to make a million excuses, but I sincerely thank everyone who has reviewed the past few months. Your responses and encouragement has helped me so much. Please enjoy-hopefully I can get out the next chapter a little faster!**

As Tyrion wandered away from the king's chambers, his mind whirled at the devastation Cersei had almost brought about. She had always been cruel and stupid, even when they had been children, but now...now it was something else...something altogether more dangerous and unpredictable. Her mind was slipping into madness. And while he would have loved to blame it on Joffrey's poisoning, he could not deny that the warning signs had been there before. She was becoming a liability and soon she would have to be controlled- before she ruined them all.

Not quite ready to face anyone yet-not even his pretty, sweet wife- he found himself meandering around the keep aimlessly. After about an hour of processing, he headed to the kitchen to steal away some necessary fortifiers and then made his way to his brother's chamber. He hesitated at the wooden door for just a moment before raising a hand and knocking.

His brother opened the door, red-eyed and ready to snarl at whoever had dared bother him, but paused when he realized it was Tyrion.

But it seemed as if Jaime was uninterested in seeing any of his family members. "Go away," he murmured weakly and tried to close the door in Tyrion's face, but only haphazardly as the dwarf easily pushed it back open.

"Come now, you can't mean to send me away!" Tyrion infused his voice with a jovial attitude as he strode into Jamie's presence chamber ignoring his brother's glare. "I may be Lannister, but I look nothing like our sweet sister or our formidable patriarch! As they never fail to remind me! Surely my presence will do nothing to remind you of our vicious family." He could see a smirk tugging at Jaime's lips despite himself and quickly poured them both a goblet of the bitter red wine from the stolen jug. He offered one up to his brother who took it with a withering look before draining it quickly. Tyrion slowly sipped from his own cup as he thought over what he could say to his suffering brother. Jaime sunk into a chair, his head practically between his knees. The men sat in silence. His brother looked utterly defeated, gazing stonily at the empty cup in his hands, seeing nothing. Just when Tyrion was growing uncomfortable with the silence, Jaime let out a sigh, sitting back and meeting his brothers gaze.

"You've always known." It wasn't a question, but Tyrion nodded anyway. "Has she always been so..." Jaime trailed off, but his tone was laced with embarrassment and shame.

"I loved her once, you know." Tyrion started, remembering the days when he was a child and had not been quite so aware of her disdain for him. Back when she was his golden, beautiful sister and even when she had become queen. He had been so proud to have her as a sister. She had never been kind to him, but it was only as he grew that he had accepted that she actually, truly, hated him. It had been a bitter realization. He wondered how their relationship would have been if their mother had lived... But he might as well wish for a dragon of his own for all the good it would do him. No...he had murdered Cersei's mother and for that she would never forgive him. But still, Jaime was his brother- the only one he could always count on. And he had truly loved her. Or at least loved the woman he thought she was. "She's gotten worse, Jaime. After Robert...after this trouble with Joffrey... She's not in her right mind." They had all suffered greatly over the years and that had not excused any of their actions, but Jaime did not have to hear that. Tyrion could tell just by looking at his brother that the man was broken. First he had lost his hand, now his lover. The two things that made Jaime whole were pulled from him, leaving him an empty shell. He did not doubt that Jaime could get through this, but it would be hard. And he would need love and support. Perhaps he could travel with he and Sansa to The Rock once all these insanity had passed.

"She told Father...He knows..."Jaime struggled to speak and Tyrion saw how his knuckle went white where it gripped the goblet.

Tyrion hesitated a heartbeat before shaking his head. "She did not get a chance, Jaime. Not to say the words. And that's enough doubt for him. He will not know because he does not wish to know." If Tyrion was sure of anything, it was that their father would not accept the truth that was shoved in front of him. Tywin Lannister was many things, but he could not handle this obvious destruction of his ideals. And so he would not see it, just as he had not ever seen it before.

But Cersei had signed her fate now. While Tyrion was sure it was originally Tywin's plan to keep her in King's Landing, even if only for a few years as they solidified Tommen's rule, now he was sure to send her off somewhere as soon as possible. She was a wild card and Tywin would not suffer the threat she posed.

He could send her to the seven hells, for all that Tyrion cared- but it was likely he'd send Jaime away as well. There was no way that their legacy-obsessed father would allow another grandson's rule to be tainted by any scandal. And keeping either of the twins here was begging for disaster. It would also leave Tywin uncontested for influence over the new king. Tommen was a sweet boy and would undoubtedly be a better king, but he was still just a boy. Tywin would be regent, hand, and Grandfather to their child ruler-effectively taking control of the seven kingdoms.

The brothers were silent for a moment, weighed down by the reality of how far they had all fallen. Finally Jaime spoke again, interrupting Tyrion's thoughts.

"You've always known..." he all but whispered, glancing up at his brother. Tyrion could see his eyes swimming with emotion.

Pain. Vulnerability. Humiliation. Disgust. Shame. All swirling in those emerald chips and it broke his heart.

"I've always known that you deserve more. More than to just be another tool for her to use as she will. You deserve a woman who will cherish you for who you are. One that will not just take and take without a care to your wellbeing. You know father will seek a bride for you now-especially with her...outburst."

Jaime glanced away, sniffing loudly and clearing his throat before turning back to his brother with drier eyes and a ghost of his normal scornful smirk.

"A woman who will care for me, eh? Care for the kingslayer? For the cripple I have become?"

Tyrion chuckled before his thoughts went someone infinitely more peaceful. Long copper curls and dazzling blue eyes filled his mind and he couldn't help the grin that came over his features. "If the demon monkey could find such a gentle creature, so then could his handsome brother-sword hand or no."

Now the smirk was back in full force. "Well aren't you a lucky man" he drawled.

"Oh, but I am, brother. And aren't you happy for me?" Jaime smiled wickedly before raising his glass in a toast and taking a sip. "I seem to remember my beautiful wife has a sister...perhaps you would like a Stark bride of your own?" Tyrion teased and full on laughed when his comment had Jaime coughing up his wine.


End file.
